SALVATION
by PanicButton
Summary: Reid/OMC plus one. Reid has a visitor asking him for help with something unusual. Language, slash,
1. Chapter 1

THE SALVATION 

**a/n: Bad language in context and stuff. Please don't read if you think this will offend you. Perhaps maybe probably very likely but not fully certain… SLASH. Thank you XOX**

_**It is more noble to give yourself completely to one individual than to labor diligently for the salvation of the masses: ~ **__**Dag Hammarskjold**__**  
**_

Reid

It's been a while now. They say time heals but really I don't think it does. It may allow you to adapt but some things just scab over and sit there waiting for you to knock the scab or get an itch and you're right back to where you started again. A couple of years. That's a long time. One day Floyd was here living with me and the next he was gone. '_I'm going to travel for a while. I need to get my head clear of the shit.'_ That's what he told me but I'd known for a few months that things had changed. It had been well over a year since he'd raised a hand to me. Well over a year since he'd don't much at all to me in fact. The relationship didn't come to a big nasty blood splattered ending, it just faded away. I don't know what's better. I don't know if I'd have felt better about things if I'd thought it was something I'd done… I really don't know.

I'm back at work again. Things feel oddly settled. I can go to work and not have to keep my head down and hide my bruises. I don't have to keep taking days off sick so that they wont see what Floyd had done with his fists over the weekend. I can ask people back and we can relax knowing that Floyd wasn't going to come barging in through the doors fit to kill anyone who'd spoken to me.

I am so bored.

Yes the job keeps me busy but now that's all I have. I don't want to end up with no one to go home to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life having my back getting cold in the bed. In one respect I know I am safe yet in another I have lost something which made me feel safe. Even though that thing would beat me and drug me. I still knew that if anyone else ever hurt me that they'd pay.

I guess it's time to grow up and stop needing that someone to keep my back safe.

I got shot and I really was expecting Floyd to turn up and cause havoc but nothing. Not a damned thing… then six months ago I get a post card. The type with a picture on the front.

_Wish you were here._

That's what it said. I knew the hand writing. A post card from Venice. I raised it to my face and sniffed at it to see if there was a remnant of his smell still there but there wasn't. The following month I got a postcard again. The same message on the back. This time from Paris. Then I got some in rapid succession… Rome, London, Berlin, Moscow, Madrid… and then some places in southern Italy and then one from New York. They all had the same message on them. I put each one in a big envelope in the desk drawer. I didn't want someone coming across these. I would be asked all sorts of prying questions. Questions which I don't want to answer.

A case of a woman snatching babies from hospitals. All the babies were found and the woman arrested. She will need help. The woman was ill. She had seven babies aged between six months and two weeks. At least the children found their way home. And that's what I intended on doing. Just going home and snuggling up into my own sweet world of books and coffee.

I knew something was wrong as I pulled out my key to put in the lock. Someone had been here. There were marks on my door. I'd had it revamped after Floyd left, but now there were new scratches on it. Deep scratches. I just stood there for a while and ran my fingers over the door and wondered if I'd be better off just leaving again and finding a room somewhere else for the night, but curiosity forced me to unlock the door and walk in. The door wasn't double locked and the alarm had been turned off and if I'd not been able to smell that stink of cheroots I would have pulled out my gun, but I knew who was here. I closed the door behind me, pulled off my bag and walked down to the lounge were a very pale looking Floyd was sitting with a bottle of red wine and a frown.

'Oh you decided to come home then?' He snapped at me.

'I've been working.' I should ask him where he's been and what he's doing here but I don't. 'Do you want a coffee?' I guess I know where he's been. He's been sending my postcards. I don't feel I need to ask.

'No… no coffee… just sit. I've something I want to talk about.' He points at my chair.

He wants to talk about something. He's been gone all this time and suddenly feels the need to talk? Maybe I don't. 'Well I need a coffee.' I turned my back and walked back to the kitchen. I hear his footsteps on the wooden floor behind me, but he's not getting too close.

'I don't want you to think that I've come here for something.' He tells me. 'Well actually… forget that. Spence… I need something.'

I ignore him. He's spoken half a dozen words and most of them lies. What's the point in listening further?

'Are you listening to me? Did you get my postcards?'

I put a mug on the counter and turn to look at him. He looks worried. 'OK… I'm listening. Hurry up and say what it is you want to say and then leave. You're not welcome here anymore. Yes I got the postcards. Looks like you've been having fun.'

'Just visiting family mostly. Nothing exciting. But I'm back and something has gone awry with Sam.'

Great. He's got a problem with the brat from Hell and he's come to me to talk about it? Why? 'Sam? What's wrong?' I try to be understanding. I really do try.

'There's this thing going on. I went to the local cops and they'll not listen to me. I cant explain it to them Spence. I know you'll understand though. He's been at college. Doing really well. Keeping down a part time job and keeping off the drugs mostly… but still he's a whore. But you cant have everything in life can you. But yeah… Sam's doing well… at least he was until this shit started happening.'

'If Sam is in trouble there's not much I can do to help Floyd. You need to speak to someone who can offer you proper advice. I've never had children. I don't understand them.'

Floyd is shaking his head though. 'Up until eight months ago Sam was getting top grades in everything and anything he touched. He's a genius. But you know that. You know.' Floyd started to walk back to the lounge now that I had my coffee. He sat on the couch and picked up the bottle of wine again. 'Then things started to slip. He was missing classes, grades dropped. He got fired from his job.'

'Drugs?' I asked.

Again Floyd was shaking his head. 'You know I could understand this all if it was drugs but it's not. He stopped whoring. If it was just Sam I'd just shrug it off and slap him around, but it's not. I did some research… actually I hacked the college computer network and there's loads of kids doing the same. The top kids… all missing classes… grades dropping… socialisation has all but stopped… Now I know… I also know that college kids get up to no good sometimes but it's not just the kids Spence. Some of the tutors seem to be going the same way… not coming into work. Failing to mark assignments, or to set them in the first place. I cant go and ask questions Spence. The cops wont listen to me. I have spoken to Sam though and he wont explain. All he'll tell me is if he doesn't purge and if he doesn't ask for forgiveness then he will be damned.'

I sip at my coffee and listen. 'Is it a religious thing he's gotten involved with?' I ask him.

'Spence! Fuck Spence! Put your sodding brain in will you! Sam is a fucking demon… he's not even bloody human! How the _fuck_ can something which was created in hell for me to sodomise be anything but damned? And he bloody well knows that. It's something else. I know it is but he'll not talk to me about it. He wont explain. I know it's going to fucking kill him. I need someone to investigate it Spencer and the cops wont listen. How can I tell them that Sam wouldn't be praying to god for salvation cos he's a fucking demon? I cant! I cant…'

I nod slowly because really I don't know what else to say. I sip some more at my drink and then frown. 'I don't know how I can help you Floyd.'

'Fuck.' He replies. 'How do you get those other fuckers involved in something? How can I get them to look at this?'

'You cant. This isn't how it's done. I will tell Hotch what you've told me if you wish, but we cant just plough in there. Maybe you need to talk more to Sam and ask him what's going on.'

Floyd swigs from his bottle and then places it on a coaster on the table. 'Talk to Hotchner for me.' He says. 'Tell him something is going on.'

I shake my head at him and sip more on my coffee. It's not gone un-noticed that Floyd is drinking wine and not his usual whiskey. 'Why don't you just do what you'd normally do and wade in and demand to know? Really it just sounds like he's bored with class.'

Now he stands up and starts pacing. 'I found him a bedsit before I left. He's on a full scholarship at the college. I paid for his place. He just needed spare cash for food. When I got back here from my travels, knowing that he'd been fucking up his education once again, I went to see him and ask what the fuck was going on. Spence… you'd hardly recognise him. He was living in filth. I mean filth. He'd stopped using the bathroom for anything. If it'd just been washing he'd lapsed on I'd maybe have understood, but… well, I found him naked, crouched facing the wall surrounded by small empty boxes, shit, piss and vomit. His back… fuck Spence. I'd like to say he was living like an animal but even an animal doesn't sit in his shit and scourge his own back. I've taken him back to my place for now, but he wont talk to me Spence. Just keeps on saying that he needs to clean himself and punish himself for his salvation. Now look…' Floyd slapped a folder on the table, '…just look. Sam wasn't the first to start acting oddly. I've delved a little bit. Sam seems to be the worst afflicted though probably because he knows he cant be what he thinks he needs to be.'

I pick up the manila file and look at the lists of numbers and names Floyd has collected. I can see easily the declining numbers written by names but this happens in all colleges and all jobs and walks of life. It's not really that unusual. Especially if Sam is the only one acting out as badly as Floyd says he is. 'Maybe Sam just needs to be seen by a professional.' I suggest. 'Really Floyd there's nothing I can do.'

He flops back down onto the couch again. 'Then come and see for yourself. Have a look at what's going on. You ask him what the fuck he thinks he's playing at and see if you can get any sense out of him cos I sure as hell on wheels cant.'

I want to know where he's really been. I want to know why he's been away so long. I don't want to sit here and talk about Sam. 'Why were you in Europe?' I finally after finishing my coffee and fiddling with the papers again.

'They advised that I went. Things were happening too fast Spence. Things were going so very wrong. Too much too quickly. It couldn't carry on like that. I didn't want it to carry on like that. I wanted things back how they were. I've had an upgrade so to speak. A personality upgrade. I think I'm more in control again now. I was a fucking mess.'

'As was I.' I snap at him. 'I need more coffee. You say you've got your own place?' I get up to top up my mug.

'Across town, yes my own place. Look, I cant stay… I don't like leaving Sam alone. I know he'll not wander off. I don't think he's got the strength to walk away if he wanted to. I had to carry him. I don't know when he last ate.'

A personality upgrade. Maybe that means I'll get out of this meeting without a black eye? Now that would be interesting. 'Well leave then.' I tell him. 'Go and check up on Sam. Leave me an address or phone number so I can at least contact you if I discover something, but honestly a few kids dropping out of school wont get the BAU interested.'

'But maybe it will get you interested?' He picks up his bottle and walks towards the door. 'Maybe there's the same pattern at other colleges? Perhaps that techie can look into it sort of off the record?'

'Floyd… people drop out of college all the time. This isn't that alarming. The only thing which is alarming is the state Sam is in and maybe that has nothing to do with anything but the fact that he's a person with deep seated emotional problems. It sounds more like he's had a… a, major depressive episode… a breakdown… or he's delusional.'

'Oh he's delusional alright. Come and see him. Come now to my place and see it. No! I've a better idea.' He walks to my desk and scribbles down an address on a bit of paper. 'This is his old place. I'm still paying rent on it. I've touched nothing. Go look for yourself. See what you think. Take a puke bag with you cos it sure as hell in summer stinks like something I cant even describe. Go see.' Another bit of paper is then passed to me. 'And this is my current address.' Take Hotchner with you when you go… not that… fucker Morgan.' He hands me Sam's door key.

I promise him that I'll go look when I have time. Right now though I want to just curl up and try to wake up because I must have fallen asleep somewhere. Floyd wouldn't have been away all this time and them come back asking for help with Sam. Floyd wouldn't leave and not try to get more from me or just take what he wants. I want to wake up and hear the birds sing and not have the stink of his cheroots in my apartment and I don't want those deep scratches in my door. I see him out and again I promise him that when I have time, probably tomorrow, I will pop over to Sam's old place and see what I think. He tells me 'Thank you.' And then he's gone and I'm standing wondering why he didn't beat me or actually why he didn't even touch me. Two years is a long time though. I forgo food or shower for now and curl up on my bed and fall into a deep sleep and when I wake up I _can_ hear birds singing but I can still smell Floyd in my apartment and the folder is still on my coffee table. I don't have work today, so I've slept in and now I'm sitting with more coffee and the folder on my lap again and I wonder if I should at least go and visit the place Sam had been staying in and see if it was really as bad as Floyd made out it was. Knowing his fetish for keeping things clean I strongly doubt it. It's more likely Sam had failed to put his laundry away and there was some dust. Sam, I know had a thing about looking good. I cant think that he'd let himself get as bad as Floyd described. More coffee first though and maybe, just maybe a call to Prentiss.


	2. Chapter 2

2

The building Sam had apparently been living in was a tall old thing where the larger apartments had been made into cheap accommodation for students. It seemed reasonably clean and the elevator worked to take me to the fourth floor where this address on the slip of paper led me to. The corridor was painted a creamy white and pictures lined the walls with screws holding them in place. The floor was tiled and clean. The whole place felt cold though. There was music coming from behind some of the closed doors. Some had sticky notes stuck on the doors with requests for someone to phone someone else when they got home. If something was going wrong somewhere I couldn't see evidence of it in this brightly lit passageway. Sam's door looked the same as all the others. Painted white with a spy hole in the door and a simple lock. I guessed that students living in small places like this wouldn't have too much to take if someone broke in. I slipped the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

I would have loved to have stood there and sighed and been right about there being dust. If there was dust in this room it was covered up with… well filth… just as Floyd described it. Actually Floyd's description of the mess was not as bad as what I was seeing here. I'd seen rooms belonging to obsessive students before. I'd seen more than my fair share of them but this was something else entirely. Yes there was faeces on the floor as Floyd had said, but it was also up the walls and seemed to be covering almost every surface. There were obvious signs of blood too. The bed oddly was made up but as I walked slowly into the room I could see that someone had been laying on the bed and not using the bathroom. I'd honestly never seen anything as revolting as what I was looking at and breathing in. A quick check of the bathroom showed a different picture. There was nothing out of place or wrong and this was the room I could see dust. It was a tiny room with just a shower, toilet and a wash basin; no towels. I walked back into the other room and had a look at the boxes scattered around the floor. Laxatives. There was also a laptop sitting on the floor in the corner also covered in dark smears of something I didn't want to think about. I put on some gloves and picked it up though and after placing it in a plastic carrier bag I slipped it into my messenger bag. OK I could see why Floyd was alarmed at Sam's living conditions. I was going to have to persuade Floyd to have Sam looked at by a doctor, but firstly I'd go see Sam himself. That meant having to go and visit Floyd which I wasn't really much in the mood to do. I still didn't really know what I thought about Floyd. I didn't want to have to think about it. Again I wondered if I should contact Emily and again I put it off for now.

o-o-o

The address I have for Floyd is not surprisingly in a very up market part of town. Big houses behind big gates. A lot of privacy and even more money. Whatever happened when he was in Europe didn't mean he had to cut back on his spending. The gates were open so I drove up the big dark driveway to a huge white square very ugly block of a house. Not the sort of thing I'd have imagined Floyd choosing. It was far too modern and open. He liked, at least he used to like, dark enclosed spaces if he had to live somewhere other than under the stars. He's sitting in front of the front doors on the top of the two steps which lead up to the double doors. He stands and nods at me and gives an odd little salute. He's dressed strangely in loose fitting dark jeans with a vest top and a checked blue and white shirt tied around his middle. His hair is hanging down to just above his shoulders. I walk over to him and try on a smile which doesn't quite work.

'I went to Sam's apartment.'

That's all I have to say really. Floyd nods and turns and walks into this horrible house. The interior is just as nasty as the outside was. Vast open white spaces and nothing much else. 'Easier to keep clean.' He gestures around the room. 'I thought so at least but fuck… I spend almost every waking moment scrubbing fucking floors. I've never seen something get so grubby so quickly. Apologies for the mess.'

I cant see a mess. I can only see gleaming whiteness. If Sam has had some kind of breakdown I think Floyd might be well on his trail and catching up quickly. I don't comment on the total lack of mess but just nod at him. 'Can I see Sam?' I ask him and he turns and sighs and nods.

'Second door on the left at the top of the stairs. I'd come with you but I'd rather you saw this alone. Have you talked to Hotch yet?'

I don't answer him. I walk off up the big sweeping white stairs and try not to touch anything in case I leave a finger mark somewhere and cause Floyd to go off into a cleaning frenzy. I remember when this all started a long old time ago now it seems. He was seeing a therapist (who just disappeared off the scene that night he made a chilli) and she advised him to do something like cleaning to get rid of built up tension. It worked for a little while but then the cleaning thing started to almost rule everything he did. It doesn't seem to have gotten any better. He's still not touched me. He's hardly even looked at me. I don't know what he thinks I can do about Sam. Second door on the left and I don't bother knocking I just push the door open.

'My god.' I whisper to myself. Sam is crouched in the corner with his back to me. The room stinks of human waste and blood. His back is a mess of cuts and scabs. There's a scourge at his side and his head is down… oh and he's naked. I wouldn't have known it was Sam. I just stand there looking at him and imagine what he must have looked like when he was back in the other apartment. 'Sam?' I say, but I keep it to a whisper as I walk over to him. Carefully I place a hand on his shoulder as I crouch down, keeping away from the small amount of mess he's already made. 'Sam it's Spencer. What's going on here?'

He turns his head oh so slowly. And still I'd not have known it was Sam if I'd not been warned. His face is almost translucent it's so pale, but with dark rings under his eyes. One eye looks wrong. The pupil too large. His mouth has sores in the corners, his face is sunken and almost skeletal. 'Spencer?' He croaks at me.

'Sam… what the hell is going on?'

'They will come and only the pure will be able to go with them. I've done so _much_ Spencer. So much. I don't want to be damned.' His voice is a low whisper. 'I have to show them that I _repent_. I have to empty myself of everything… _Everything_.' He looks at his fingertips and I can see smudges of blood there.

'You need to be in hospital.' I inform him. 'You also need a shower. Come with me.' I cant think of anything else to say.

'I need to repent Spencer. I have to empty myself. I have to show them that there is nothing inside of me. I have to prove myself and then make the offer. I can be saved. I can reach that place.' He turns his head away from me and looks at the puddle of urine on the floor. 'I'm so thirsty.' He mutters.

'I'll get you a drink. Why don't you go and rest on the bed?'

'I cant. I cant do that. I've reached stage three. I cant sleep now. Only two more stages to go Spencer and I'll be saved. He has spoken to me. He has said if I carry on and if I continue to do as I should then when they come I will be chosen.'

'I'll get you a drink.' I repeat as I stand up and leave the room. Just as I turn to close the door I see his hands tighten around the scourge and I can hear muttered breaths asking for salvation. He's had a breakdown. He needs to be hospitalised.

It seems odd to see Floyd not knowing what to do, but I have an idea. I tell him to get Sam into the shower and wash him. I tell him to then sit him on the toilet and feed him. Don't let him get up. Try to persuade him that it's better to do that. Keep all sharp objects away from him and get rid of the scourge he's been using. I also need to use Floyd's computer. There's a sheet amongst the things he's given me with a list of students names and the grades and attendance numbers. I type it all out again giving the students numbers and not names. I don't want Emily or Hotch… I've not decided who I will go to yet, I don't want that person to see Sam's name there. Oh I tell Floyd to get rid of any laxatives he might have in the house too. He gives me a funny look but nods.

'Anything else?' He asks me. 'Are you coming back?' He seems so alone and if I didn't know better I'd say he was scared.

'I'll come back. Promise. If not for you then for Sam. I need to check some things out first though. Get Sam sorted. And once he's on the toilet try to get him to put something on so he's no so exposed. Just in case I bring someone back with me.' I reach out to touch the side of that worried face but he quickly steps back out of reach of my touch.

'Don't.' He shakes my head. 'Just… go… come back soon Spence.' He raises a hand as though to touch my own but then drops it again. 'Quickly Spence.'

o-o-o

I end up standing in Hotch's lounge with my messenger bag over my shoulder on a Saturday afternoon not quite knowing where to start. I don't want to mention Sam and certainly not Floyd so I have to be careful how I say what I'm going to say.

'Someone came to see me last night. I was left this. I was asked if there seemed to be anything wrong with the figures.' That's how I start off. I hand Hotch the folder and watch his puzzled expression as he glances down at it.

'I see. Well I'll go and have a quick look and you can make coffee.' He walks off into the lounge and I can tell he's not happy about having his weekend wrecked by my mystery but – well I've done it now. When I arrive in the lounge with two mugs of coffee he's leaning over the paperwork at the small desk he has for his computer. 'Where did you say this came from?'

'An old friend.' I say and place the mug next to the folder. 'The thing is that I knew what I was looking at before he passed it on to me, he'd already told me what to look for and now I don't know if that pattern is really there. I wanted fresh eyes to look at it for me.' I then sip on some of my very sweet coffee.

He's nodding and running his finger down the page looking at the figures there. 'A lot of students dropping out.' He mutters. 'I don't know that there's anything I should see here as unusual.'

I bite on my bottom lip. 'Well is there a student which stands out as the worst?'

He prods number seven. Sam's number. I suck in a lungful of air and then breathe out over my coffee. 'I really was hoping you'd not point that out.'

'Well whoever this is was doing exceptionally well until eight months or so ago. He's not the first to have dropped off on his grades but he's certainly gone down quicker than the others. Assuming this is a boy?'

I nod. 'It's a boy. I told the person who brought this to me that there's nothing we can do to help, but…' I shrug, 'I've seen the boy in question… boy number seven and Hotch…' I describe where he'd been living and how he was when I spoke and what he said to me. Hotch is looking at me through narrowed eyes with a deep frown on his face. 'I know officially we cant help, but I thought…'

'A lot of students drop out Spencer and if a young man is troubled anyway the chances increase dramatically. This really is nothing too unusual. I cant let you use BAU resources to investigate this further. Maybe the lad just needs to be in therapy.'

I slump down onto Hotch's couch and then pull out the dirty laptop. 'This was in his room. I've not looked at it yet and don't even know if it works… but… I thought, I thought…'

Hotch nods. 'Very well. Your mystery had become mine too. But before we carry on I need to know who brought you this information and I need to know the name of the boy involved and I want his address.'

I scratch at my head and rub at my neck and fiddle with a loose thread on my cardigan and sigh. 'Student number seven is Sam Trent. Floyd brought me this stuff and before you lecture me I'd not seen him in two years Hotch and he suddenly turns up freaking out about this stuff.' I thought he was going to tell me to get out. I really thought that mentioning Floyd or Sam's name would get me kicked out of Hotch's house and I'd not have been at all surprised but he didn't. He sat back on his chair and rubbed his fingers at his eyes…

'I thought this was done. I thought it was over.'

I nod. 'Well I think it is. Floyd said he went to the local PD and they weren't interested, but they'd not seen Sam or heard what he had to say and we both know that un-natural forces are at play here Hotch even if you don't want to admit it. I know. I can feel it. I know something very wrong is going on and so does Floyd. He's trying to do the right thing here but he's frustrated because sometimes doing the right thing gets you no where… I know that feeling well. I'm worried that if too many obstacles are placed in his way he'll try to solve the problem his own way and we both know where that will lead to don't we?' I open the laptop and luckily it springs into life. The interior of the computer also seems to be very clean. There's not a mark on it. Whoever used it… Sam I assume, didn't use it once this odd turn had dragged him down to where he was now.

Now I wish that I'd taken this home and looked at it. I can see the expression drift over Aaron's face and though he's trying to make it look as though it's not bothering him, I know that it is. It's bothering him a lot. Sam's computer appears to be set up with two distinct sections. One part is all college stuff. All his assignments and research is there. Everything to do with college and the subjects he's taking, or _was_ taking. The other part of his laptop is taken up almost entirely with pornography. Mostly homoerotic but also other very unsavoury stuff. There is a great mix of very light photos of models but there's also some very illegal images on here too. I don't look at Hotch I just snap the lid closed and lick my lips. I give Hotch a sideways glance and he's staring at me.

'Well it seems obvious what Sam was up to in his spare time.' Hotch snaps at me. 'Spencer if he's involved in drugs and pornography…'

I shake my head vigorously. 'I don't think he was though. Can I take this to Pen and get her to see if he was actively downloading that nasty stuff or if it was being sent to him? Maybe there's an order amongst the chaos.' I know he'd said no BAU resources to be used but it was worth a try.

'No… Take it to my office Spencer. If you want to work out where it came from work it out here. I don't want to get Penelope involved in this trash. If it turns out there is something going on then we will talk further. Do you want something to eat? I've pizza.'

I pick up the laptop and walk slowly to the small office Aaron has. 'I'd love pizza. Thank you.' I turn to look at Hotch who's not moved from next to the small desk. 'I'm sorry Hotch. He just turned up and started on at me about this and I didn't know what to do.'

'Did he hit you?' Hotch asks me.

'He's not even touched me Hotch. He's avoiding all physical contact.'

'That's good. That's good…'

'Is it?' I say. 'Maybe for you it is… I've missed him.'

He nods at me. I think perhaps he understands. 'Chicken and mushroom? The pizza…'

'Oh yes… yes thank you Hotch. I'll just take this…' I tap the laptop, '… and see what's going on – if anything.'

This is what I discover:

Sam was prostituting himself up until six months ago. He had money earned and money paid out for this – erm profession. He also had a very large collection of pornographic movies and a lot of links to websites he'd subscribed to. They were nothing illegal though. Just fun stuff I suppose you'd class it as. Then suddenly everything changes. Eight months ago he stopped reading the majority of his emails. He slowed down considerably on the amount of college work he was completing. The images he had were being sent to him rather than him downloading them, the same for the videos and these new things were very illegal. They made my skin crawl. Six months ago the prostitution seemed to stop. Money in and out stopped. He also seemed to have lost the small part time job he had at a video store. (I will go and find out why) The last email he opened had an attachment but I really don't want to open it. it says and the sender is the same person who was sending him pornography. Just a row of numbers at a gmail address. I'm sure this is where Sam started up this oddness. I would also like to know if the other students or tutors got the same file.

I've seen the tricks that programmes can do to your mind. I have no intention of opening it.


	3. Chapter 3

3

After sharing the pizza with Hotch we both sat and stared at the wall for a while. I don't know what was going on in Hotch's head but my own mind was firmly on the oddness which Sam has become. Finally a couple of hours later I pull myself out of the place I'd been slipping to and I stand.

'I think you should see Sam.' I tell Hotch. 'You need to see the extent this has gone to, not because there might be something going on here, but simply because I thought you cared about Sam. Oh and really Hotch I do think something odd is going on.'

I watch as Hotch almost painfully tears his eyes away from the nothing he's been looking at and he looks up at me and gives a small nod. 'Very well, but I'm not happy that this is going to have to involve Flanders yet again. You do realise what's going to end up happening don't you?'

My turn to nod. 'I know, but this isn't me or Floyd I'm worried about. This is a teenaged boy who needs help and I don't think Floyd is capable of giving it and I know he wont listen to me. I need someone else to back up the idea of getting the lad to hospital.' I pick up my keys off the side table and rattle them. 'Follow me?'

So that's why I pull up into Floyd's driveway in early evening with Hotch in his own SUV behind me. Again I just sit and look at the ugly house for a minute and again I see that Floyd is sitting on the steps outside. This time he has a large glass of what appears to be red wine and a cheroot. At least not everything about him has changed. Hotch and I walk over together and Floyd slowly gets to his feet with a loud popping of his knees and long deep sigh. 'Well I did what you said, but he wouldn't stay put so I kind of had to make him. I suppose you're here to pry into my problems are you Aaron?' He actually puts out a hand to shake which Hotch takes with caution. 'Been a long time. You look old Aaron. Not enough time off.' Floyd then opens the double front door and leads us into the huge hallway. There's a small white table set centrally and this table is now covered in scented candles and incense. The place has a very heady cloying smell to it. 'Some sort of disguise.' Floyd waves his hands around. 'Spence knows where Sam is. Show him Spence. Let this self righteous son of a bitch see what's going on.'

'There's no need…' Hotch starts to say but Floyd cuts him off.

'…There is actually every need. You've entered my home and you've stood there and judged. You've profiled me in a blink of your prying eye and you've decided that I'm covering up the smell of something. Something rotten? Something decaying? Something I've killed and hidden in my cellar maybe? Or perhaps it's the stink of shit I'm trying to cover up. Go ahead. Go look. Excuse the mess up there. He was slightly resistant to my… my gentle persuasion. I had to use force. Don't trail dirt through my house. If there's a risk you're going to, either take off your shoes or utilise the foot coverings.' He then points to a box of disposable covers behind the door. Yes I think I was correct. Floyd's oddness about keeping things clean has reached a whole new level.

I left Floyd muttering to himself in the hallway and led Hotch up the stairs and to Sam's door. We both stood and listened at the door before entering but there was nothing to be heard. I thought I'd have at least heard Sam's mutterings but there was silence. The reason for that was because Floyd had used yards of duct tape and taped Sam to the toilet. He'd slapped a length over Sam's mouth too. He looked like a wild animal caught in a trap. I could see a large bruise coming up on his chin and I could also see that weird look in his eyes… especially that eye which didn't seem to focus on anything. I just stood looking at him but Hotch moved right on in and carefully removed the tape from Sam's mouth. 'Sam.' Hotch mumbled.

'You have to let me go. I need to cleanse my body. Let me go.' Sam's voice hissed. 'I have to be pure. I have to repent and I cant do that here. Let me go. Let me show how sorry I am. Let me show that I'm clean!' His voice was rising gradually as he started to speak faster. 'They will come and I wont be ready and all of this would have been for nothing. I need to be _ready_! You cant stop me.' He wriggled where he was strapped to the toilet. Floyd had placed a large towel around the naked Sam. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry… you can see this isn't my fault. You can see that I'm trying. Give me more time! I need more time… I will be ready. I will be clean. I will… I will… Let me the fuck go you _cunts_!' Sam was now screaming and a small cough from behind us let us know that Floyd was standing there with more tape in his hand.

'I knew you'd do that. You think I gagged him for no reason. Well obviously you did. You think I'm an idiot. Now Hotchner can you see I have a problem here?' All the time Floyd was talking Sam was screaming at us…

'You fucking dirty whore's stinking cunny fuckers! Let me go! You're sodding well going to kill me you fucking stupid penis brained handjob of a shit!' And then just a long drawn out howl.

'I've not tried to feed him. He refuses to open his mouth.'

'I cant fucking eat you stupid cunt.' Sam snapped back at Floyd. 'You will pollute my body and I'll have to start over again. I have to be empty! Why cant you understand that!'

Tears ran down Sam's face as he struggled to get off the toilet again. Hotch turned to look at Floyd and then pushed him out of the way so that he could leave the small bathroom Sam was being held in. He then grabbed Floyd and half dragged him out into the hallway. I let them go and walked slowly over to Sam. 'What's going to happen when you're chosen?' I ask him.

He looks at me as though I'm stupid. 'The end is coming Spencer. The end of everything. You have no concept of the danger we are all in. I've done so much. I've sinned and done the most dreadful things and I don't want to burn. Please Spencer. Let me go. I need to prove that I'm ready. The only way to stop yourself from burning for an eternity is to cleanse or to end it. I have to do one or the other. I cant just sit here pissing and shitting for the rest of my life. Just a few days Spencer. Just a few more days and it's all going to be over. You'll see. You'll see it and you'll know I was right and all that sodomising and eating of flesh you've done you'll sit in a puddle of your own sin and realise that I was right and you were horribly mistaken. I've done so fucking much. I have to be clean on the inside. I have to do this Spencer.'

I stare at him trying to take in all that he's saying. 'Are you talking about what was predicted in Revelations?' I ask but he just gives me a sad look and shakes his head. 'Then what is this. Who has told you to do this?'

'He did!'

I wonder for an instant if he means Floyd but he cant do. Floyd wasn't around when this started and he'd not come to me asking and virtually begging for help if he knew how to stop it. 'You need to be in hospital.' I inform him and leave the bathroom.

Aaron is telling Floyd that he cant leave Sam taped to the toilet and Floyd is muttering back that he doesn't want Sam spreading his filth all over his house.

'He should be in hospital.' Hotch says. He tells Floyd that he knows of a good doctor (probably one he's called to see me on occasions) and he'll get him to come over and see Sam. Floyd says nothing but chews on the skin around his thumb nail and stares at the plane white wall of the passageway. 'You cant leave him there like that. It's abuse.' Hotch also tells him. Floyd just looks fed up with everything and very tired. Sam's voice has lowered again to a mutter so I leave the doors open. I didn't mean for Floyd to tape him to the toilet like that. I was delusional thinking that Sam would just sit there though.

o-o-o

Hotch finally leaves with the promise that he'll send a doctor to see Sam as soon as he can and tells Floyd (who doesn't argue) that Sam cant be left where he is. After Hotch leaves I follow Floyd to a large bare kitchen where he puts on some coffee and pulls a couple of white mugs out of a white very ordered cupboard.

'I didn't think.' Floyd says when he turns to look at me. 'It never occurred to me. I've been so fucking stupid Spence.'

'Well you can just untie him. Put some plastic sheeting down on his floor. If he's not eating…'

Floyd makes a cutting gesture with his hand and frowns at me. 'I didn't mean that. No matter. Yes… plastic sheeting. Fuck. I hate this fucking house Spence. I had a cleaner in for two days and couldn't stand watching her and I don't think she liked me crawling along the floor behind her like some mutant slug checking that she'd done it right. I thought I was doing the right thing.'

'Well maybe you need to go out when the cleaner is here…'

Again that cutting gesture with his hand. 'I didn't mean that. Sod the bitch. I fired her. Gave her a month's pay and told her to fuck off. I'll do it myself but now Sam… this is going to get in the way of…' He runs a finger over the surface of the counter. '…dusting. I was told this place was twenty years old. I was told that the dust from a new build would be worse… how can it be worse than this?' I personally cant see any dust but I don't tell him so. 'I've missed you. You have no idea how much I've missed you, but you know how it goes huh? I guess you do. I've been gone and done things before.'

'And I missed you those other times too. I've got my life back though. Not that you prevented me from having a life… I just…'

Once again that gesture with his hand. 'You just… yes. I see. You have a boyfriend?'

I shake my head. 'The very last thing on my mind has been bedding someone.' I tell him… and he spots the lie immediately.

'Oh… you've not missed me hugging you at night then?' He pours the coffee and places one on the counter for me to take.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and I want more than anything to wrap my arms around him and welcome him home properly but Sam is screaming again and we or rather Floyd cant leave him there like that. 'We should sort out Sam.' I know I've evaded his question and he knows I've evaded it too. He sighs and nods and points at a long cupboard.

'Plastic sheeting. You grab that and I'll go release Sam. He'll yell like a banshee though; not that he's particularly hairy, but that stuff sticks.' He walks quickly out of the kitchen and I'm left standing there alone wondering exactly what this personality upgrade involved. So far I don't much like the look of what it's done. Floyd isn't who he used to be. He's a shadow of what and who he used to be. I decide to help him sort out Sam for now and then have a long talk with him. Even though I know how spiteful Floyd is I watch as he mutters apologies to Sam as he rips off the tape almost carefully. I can see that he doesn't want to hurt Sam more than Sam has already hurt himself. I place down the plastic over where Sam had been crouched before and Floyd half carries and half drags Sam into the corner. He pulls a blanket off a pile of what looks to be rags in the corner and wraps it around Sam's shoulders. I thought Sam would push it away but he doesn't. He drops his head and looks at where he's crouched and begins muttering apologies to some invisible person who he thinks can save him. I place a bottle of water next to him and ask that he tries to remember to drink.

'I may drink only water.' Sam whispers.

I tell him that it is just mineral spring water and he gives me a side glance and a quick nod which might have been a _thank you_ but he's not talking to me he's carrying on his dirge begging for forgiveness.

'I need a smoke.' Floyd tells me and after closing and locking the door to Sam's room he walks back down to the kitchen and I follow him. Still there's been no physical contact between the two of us. He opens a door which leads into the gardens at the rear of the property. There's a pool there and a summer house and a long stretch of lawns before a small line of trees. 'Great place to invite friends to… pool parties you know?' I nod and sip on a fresh mug of coffee. 'Fucking waste of time and money. I'd have been better off in a damned cabin by a lake and a fuck load happier too.' I reach out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder but he flinches away from me. 'Best not.' He tells me and walks towards the beautiful pool which is underlit with blue lighting. 'Gross. Flash and disgusting. Not what I want.' He lets out a long sigh and flicks his cheroot butt into the pool. 'Almost expected it to explode.' He grins at me. 'So Spencer… I'll deal with Sam tonight and I'll let you know if that doctor turns up.'

'I've not really been all that helpful.' I tell him. 'I was thinking maybe I could stay the night. Help you out?' I look back at the house. 'You have a spare room.'

'A fucking house full of spare rooms. I don't use them Spence. Sure I use the bathroom and the kitchen and you know? I don't sleep in there. No spare bedrooms I'm afraid. I don't do all that much sleeping. No point in bedrooms. I just curl up in that _filth_ of a hallway and try to… I try…' He lights another cheroot. 'I don't want things to be like they were Spencer. I really don't want that.'

I look at him with caution. 'I don't want that either.' I let him know. I've had two pain free years mostly and I don't want him coming back and knocking me back into place again. If that was actually where he was knocking me to. _My Place_. 'I just want to give…'

'It's amazing don't you think Spence? It's absolutely shocking that I can not even be on the same continent and still fuck everything up over here. You'd not think it possible.'

'This isn't your fault Floyd. This is something Sam has become embroiled in and it's not something you've done.'

He sits now on a stone bench under the kitchen window and places his mug in the big white planter at his side. 'So what do you think of this new polite law abiding Flanders?' He suddenly asks me.

'Honestly Floyd. It's confusing me.' I go and sit next to him and he slides along the bench out of reach of me. 'Why wont you let me touch you?' I ask him and he sighs again and looks over at me and gives me that much loved smirk of his, but I suspect that there is a new love in his life. I cant expect him to be away that long and not have to replaced me. Though I've not replaced _him_. Then I'm a fool and I shouldn't be here… then he says…

'Because if I touch you I'll be reminded of how much I want and need you. I'd have to rip at your clothing and fuck you and make up for the two years of sodomy I've missed out on. I'd have to lick and pinch and touch and nibble on every bit of flesh I can get my hands and mouth on and in. I'd grind so fucking hard against you… and I'd pull you back to me and never let you go… and where is the fun in that?' He stands. I don't know if he's messing with me or not.

'I need you too.' I whisper at his retreating back and he hears me and waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder. He goes to stand at the bottom of the stairs and his head is cocked slightly to the side listening to Sam and his hands are at his side; such a familiar stance that it makes my stomach heave, but I'm not sure if it's fear that everything is going to repeat it self or if it's pure delight to be able to stand here and watch. He's concentrating and that's the only reason I think I'm able to walk up behind him and rest my hands on his hips. The reaction isn't what I thought it would be.

He spins on the spot and places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me back away from him. 'Don't… just don't Spencer.' I ask him why not. I ask him if there's someone else but he reminds me that he had told me that he'd been free of arse for two years. I then ask him if there's a woman. He flops down on the stairs and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his head resting in his hands. 'I told you. I said I had this personality upgrade thing. A whole new me.'

'There's a woman.' I state sadly and start to walk away from him.

'She's about Sam's height. Blond. The biggest damned blue eyes you've ever seen. Skin as pale as milk. A good pair of neat firm tits and a cunny all to myself. A good arse on her too, but I leave that for other things you know? She's a great cook and a wonderful mother.' I stop walking and turn to face Floyd who's grinning broadly at me. 'Spence… for fuck's sake, there's no bloody woman. I'm who I've always been, but a bit more in control of things. At least I _was_ more in control of things until this shit with Sam started. I'm still snorting shit, I'm still smoking my crap, I've moved from whiskey to wine. The rest of me is the same. I've not changed except for… I made a deal and that deal is something I intend fully to keep to. At least I _had_ fully intended to keep to it, but now… now looking at you and smelling you and hearing your damned voice Spence… I don't think I'm going to be able to keep my hands out of the front of your pants for much longer. Do me a favour and just fuck off will you? Or you can stay the night in the summer house. Keys are on a hook by the rear door. Everything there you'll need. I'll show you. Follow… follow me Spencer but do me the greatest of favours and don't touch me again.'

And so I follow him to the little building out by the pool. This small place out on his lawn is probably as big as my apartment. He walks through it showing me the little rooms and flicking on light switches and pulling blinds down as we go. He shows me the telephone and boots up the television and there's even a coffee machine in the tiny kitchen. I'm not sure if what happened next had been carefully planned in his warped mind or if it just happened. I even managed to convince myself that the business with Sam was all play acting. The bedroom was the last place he showed me. A neatly made bed and a small cupboard. I stood at the end of the bed and thanked him for letting me at least stay close by for the night and that look on his face… that frown he'd had on his face all this time just drifted away and was replaced by something totally different.

In the past I would have said that Floyd used me. I know he did, but this night out in the summer house with the sound of the night creatures going on around us I assure you that it was not like that. He tried to push me back again, but I just fell back onto the bed and that was all it took. He was on me like flies to a corpse and yes he hurt me, and yes I shouted out and no he didn't use protection or prepare me, but isn't that what I love so much? He nibbled and licked and kissed me and for the first time since he left two years ago I fell asleep with someone's arms around me and my back hot and sweaty. And some things never change… no he didn't hit me… and no he wasn't there when I woke up in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

4

I eventually and without having to look too hard, found Floyd in the large ugly hall shouting at Sam who was crouched at the foot of the stairs shouting back.

'Get your stinking skinny self back up the fucking stairs!' Floyd was bellowing.

'You told me not to move!' Sam howled back.

'You're getting shit and piss everywhere… It's going to take me all bloody week to get your stink off my paintwork!'

'You only fucking care about that cunt Spencer and your damned floors! What about me?'

'You're here aren't you? What the hell else do you want?'

'Salvation!' Sam screamed back at Floyd as he slowly backed up the stairs. 'I want you to tell me!'

'Well I cant! You cant! You're what you are… Yes you'll burn forever in hell. Yes you'll feel your blood sweating from your flesh… and yes you'll hear the eternal sizzling of your body being destroyed! Is that the answer you want? Don't touch the damned rails… Get up stairs and do not touch anything. Get back to your damned room and start begging!'

'I fucking hate you!' Sam replied as he turned and ran back up the stairs.

'Well I'm not too happy about you right now either. Fucking hell. Fuck this! Fuck every fucking thing! And don't you call Spencer a cunt! Mind your fucking language you snivelling little piece of shit.' Sam's bedroom door slammed and Floyd stood looking at the small smears of something not very nice on the floor. 'Well it seems you've not reached the next stage yet. Bleeding little turd.' Floyd then turned and saw me watching and listening to what just went on. 'Ah…' He gave a small smile. 'I found Sam wandering when I came in. Just a small discussion we had is all. How are you this morning? Eggs? You still like eggs in the morning? I've got eggs. Kitchen. Coffee is on. I thought you'd sleep for longer… Spencer my sweetest thing… can you find your own way around the kitchen this morning. Sam's made such a mess of the floor I'm going to have to be on my knees all damned day… and you know how I so hate to be on my knees.' He pointed at the kitchen door. 'Help yourself to anything you want. Eat away… I'd not mind some pancakes… how are you with… Spencer…'

I nodded and sighed. 'What was all that about? What next stage?'

He ignored me though and went to a small room which seemed to be full of bottles of bleach and buckets and mops. 'Cleaning stuff. Do you have any idea how much it costs just to keep this place free of germs?'

'What next stage? What do you know about this? What do you expect will happen?'

'Nothing Spence love… nothing… I don't know shit. Well actually I do… and I can smell it. I have to get this done… be a star will you and get something to eat?'

And so I cooked pancakes and eggs and we sat on the floor in the hall and ate and I asked Floyd more about this personality upgrade thing and what else he'd been up to. He talked a lot without actually saying anything and I guess I did too. He told me about some of the places he'd been to see and how he'd met up with _family_ and they'd given him some hard truths. 'The thing is though that I knew I was messed up and I thought it was beyond repair, but here I am and I'm doing OK don't you think?' I glanced around at the buckets of water and the sparkling clean floor and nodded slowly. I suppose in a way he wasn't as messed up as he had been, or he'd just diverted one lot of mess and gone full steam ahead and made a mess somewhere else. 'It all comes down to one thing in the end. What is it you really want?'

'What do I want? I want to feel safe, loved, warm… content.'

'You see! Everyone has the same basic needs. Everyone. It's easy… all so easy to pluck out those few… Failing numbers… Oh shit… you should have seen it. Had my work record been a graph you'd have picked up on my failings so quickly it would have made your eyes water. So here I am again all fixed and…' He leaned forward so that his nose was nearly touching mine, '…I don't much like what I've become. This isn't what I want.'

And so the conversation drifted to things we want. Not the material things in life but the things which would make us really happy. Floyd wanted open air and trees, rivers, waterfalls… birds… And I wanted just to know that the person I was with wasn't going to attack me. When it started to get dark outside I had to excuse myself and get ready to go home. He'd not demanded more sex… he'd not raised his hand to me. He'd gone back to coming so close that I could smell him but not quite touching me. He didn't argue that I had to go, and as I drove off he was sitting on the front steps of his big white monster of a home smoking a cheroot with a bottle of red wine at his side.

o-o-o

Work. It's Monday morning and I'm sitting at my desk finishing off some paperwork when we're told there's a case. All the usual then follows with getting our mugs of coffee, files, computer things and we sit and yes I always have very mixed feelings about a new case. On one hand it's what we are here for and on another it will probably mean that someone or more than one person has been murdered. A shiver goes down my spine as Garica hands out things and I have a folder placed on the desk in front of me.

'Over the weekend there have been five suicides.' She starts. 'Three female and two male. They all attended Luther College.' I think my heart stopped at that point because I know that's where Sam was going. She continued by clicking up pictures of the crime – if you can call this a crime yet – onto the big screen. Obviously the bodies have gone but the mess has been left behind. 'Each victim left a message. Not much of a message but it's what connects them all. Sandra Fipps.' A picture of a blond woman pops up. 'She hung her self from a light fitting in her bedroom where she lives with her parents who have been away for the past few months travelling. Sandra was found by her friend yesterday morning when she failed to turn up for a coffee meeting. Her suicide note is…' Another picture of scrawling on the wall, '…written in blood.' The message was clear. _Unclean_… it was very clear. Garcia went though each of the students… each had died in their bedrooms and each had died by tying a ligature around their necks and jumping off a chair. The ligature's other end was attached to various things like light fittings or clothes rails. In one case it was from a shower head in the en suite bathroom. Each had left a message. _Unclean, Filth, Lost, Whore, Dog, Tainted._

'Have you checked other colleges?' I say… oh I know that there's a horrible wobble to my voice.

'Not yet… this only just came in…'

'We have to check laptops.' I'm standing and everyone is staring at me. 'I think… really we should.' I sit back down again quickly but Hotch is glaring at me in that _What do you know?_ Sort of way… I feel sick. After a year of everything falling happily into place, I see Floyd for two days and it suddenly feels as though my world is falling apart again. My head is pounding and I know that I have to get out and I really do have to get Sam brought in for questioning. There's reason to do it now. Floyd has got his wish. The BAU will be looking into the madness of Sam. Out of all the things which could have happened why did it have to be this? Why did Sam have to be a victim and why did Floyd have to be involved. 'I should say something.' I blurt out and I see Hotch give me a warning nod. 'This weekend Floyd came to see me. He wanted me to get the team involved in a mystery he was trying to solve. Sam seems to have lost his mind, but now I see this…' I tap my folder… 'I wonder if it's something else. Sam seems to be out of his mind begging someone for forgiveness and pleading for salvation. He goes to the same college. I think it has to be connected.'

Emily stands up. 'Then we could talk to Sam. Have you looked through his laptop?' I nod… my face doesn't look happy. 'Have you talked to Sam? Asked him what's going on?' Emily now looks angry, almost as though I should have stopped this.

'I've seen Sam too.' Hotch interrupts. 'It looks as though he's having some kind of breakdown.' I nod to confirm this view. 'But I think it would be a good idea to talk to him again as we've already made contact with him. Prentiss and Reid go and see Flanders and Sam. Rossi and Derek can talk to the victims' families and I'll go with Seaver to the college and talk to the victims' friends.'

I let out a long sigh. I can see it falling apart so fast that it's almost as though if I stand the floor will collapse under me and I'll be swallowed up into a hell of my own making. I would love to say that Floyd has nothing to do with this but since when has coincidence ever happened when Floyd is around? There's going to be big trouble and I'm going to be standing there in the middle of it when the explosions start going off. I pick up my folder and follow Emily out of the room.

o-o-o

Emily drives. Again Floyd's gates are wide open and again he's sitting as though waiting for my – or our – arrival. There's a small pile of cheroot butts on the steps and some spilt wine. His need to keep things clean doesn't seem to extend to out here, but I note that he's changed clothes. Basically the same style of clothing but the Tshirt today is black and the checked shirt tied around his waist is shades of red. Emily walks over to him and he rises to his feet and gives her that odd salute he'd done to me earlier. 'I wondered… but hey now Emily Prentiss – you're looking fine.' She asks to speak to Sam and Floyd raises an eyebrow. I step in now and tell Floyd that his wish that this was investigated by the BAU has materialised. Sam has become part of a bigger case. 'His mood is low. Once you enter the house you'll be able to hear that for yourself and I know that you're going to accuse me of something but Agent Emily Prentiss I'm trying to help him.' He now looks at me. 'I took his scourge. He's not a happy bunny.'

Floyd opens the door and we walk into the sparkly clean hall. 'Give it back you motherfucking cunt!' echoes from down the stairs. Now it's Emily who raises an eyebrow and hammering and kicking starts at the door. 'I cant complete if you don't let me show you!' I note the odd way he's wording things but shrug it straight back off again. 'Please!' Now a moan of a voice… 'Please Floyd give it back. I will…'

'He goes on like this all day. Be my guest if you feel you can get some sense out of him. Spencer will show you the way.' He holds out a silver coloured key. 'I've kept the door locked to stop him wandering around the house spreading shit and piss everywhere. Just thankful that he's not eaten in so long that the mess is not so bad now. He's stopped puking. The green slime coming from his arse must sting like a son of a bitch though. I'd try not to get any on your hands. I'll be in the kitchen having something to nibble on. Join me when you're done.' He walks away to the kitchen and leaves us standing in the hall.

'Well.' Emily whispers. 'I'm not sure if he's not changed at all or if I don't know him anymore. Show me where Sam is.' I bounce forwards and lead the way up the stairs.

o-o-o

'When the time comes he will step forward and he will let us know who has been chosen. Each day, each minute of each day I have to listen for his voice. I have to wait for his word. I need to be ready. I have to go through the cleansing process and prove I can do it. Accept what I am and what I've done. Resist the lure. Punish and pain and purge. Empty my body and mind of all taints. Plead and entreat that he will hear me. Purify the superficial body… the corporeal self must be as pure and the inner self. External and internal both pure and clean. I must be prepared. I have to ask him to hear me and observe me. See how I bleed for him. See how I would die for him. See how I offer myself willingly to die for him. He just has to ask

'I don't want to be placed in the eternal fires of the damned. I don't want to sweat my blood from my body. I don't want my eyes to burst from my skull. I don't want my lungs to boil and explode. I don't want to breathe in the fires for an eternity. I have to complete what I started. Tell him I have to. Tell him I need my things back. I cant complete if he doesn't let me! Why is he doing this to me? Why is he stopping me from completing? I don't understand.

'I'm so thirsty. I'm so tired. My body hurts. I cant see properly. My hands are shaking.

'I'm a failure. I'm tainted. I'm filth… Help me Spencer! Help me end it.'

This is the tirade we hear when we walk into the room to see the creature who doesn't even look human anymore. There's muck stuck to the back of his legs, his hair is hanging in straggly clumps. He is crying… his nose is running, He has filth dried onto his sunken chest. I hear Emily's gasp of – I don't know… horror? Shock? Despair? Oh yes… it's total blinding heart stopping despair that I'm feeling. I know somehow that Floyd has something to do with this. How can he _not_ have something to do with this? I just don't know what it is.

'I'm calling an ambulance. He needs to be in hospital. He has to be protected.' Prentiss is pulling out her phone and I'm walking with legs made of jelly to the creature crawling around on the floor wailing that he's lost something. The smell is making my eyes water. The strong stink of urine. Floyd is right though. That other smell… the one which made the room smell like raw sewage has died back again.

'Sam you need to come with us. We'll get you help.' I don't touch him but I crouch down next to him.

'No, no, no. I'm so close.' He whispers back to me. 'I'm staying here. He'll let me know soon. Oh my fucking god… I have to wash. I have to shower.' He starts a wobbly shaking crawl towards the bathroom door.

'We are taking you to hospital Sam. You will die if you don't eat. You cant stay here.' I don't follow him though. I stand and shudder as I watch that creature trying to get to the bathroom.

'Isn't that the whole fucking point of this? I want to die!'

o-o-o

The medics arrive and all hell broke loose. I cant think of another way to describe it. They wanted to medicate Sam. Sam though who had locked himself in the bathroom was just howling obscenities to anyone who tried to talk to him. Floyd went and sat again on the front steps and seemed to show no interest in what was going on at all. Someone at some point broke down the bathroom door and Sam was strapped down to a gurney and taken away. The medics wanted to sedate Sam which seemed to send him into an even bigger frenzy of trying to bite and scratch and spit at anyone who tried to touch him.

'Floyd will tell you! Ask Floyd! He knows!' Sam howled as they closed the doors on the ambulance and took him away. Floyd though remained untouched by the whole fiasco and stayed with a bottle of wine on the front steps.

'What did he mean that you'd know?' Emily asked him.

He shrugged and sighed and then shook his head. 'I know what's going on. Stage one – accept what you are… you have to recognise your failings and faults. Stage two you have to resist the urge… the lure to carry on tainting your spirit. Stage three you purge and cleanse and punish. Stage four you clean your outer body in preparation. Stage five you wait… you wait and you prepare and you beg forgiveness and you plead for salvation and you hope that you'll get an answer. He'll get no answer. He's damned anyway. He cant reach what he's hoping for. He'll never get an answer. The end will arrive for him and there'll be nothing but what he's trying to avoid. You cant avoid it though can you?' He picked up his bottle and swigged back a long draught of wine. 'He should know that. He really should know that he'd be just fine as he is… what he's done is insanity. He should know. He really should have known better.'

And this short but very sweet statement ensured that Floyd was offered a place in an interview room down town. Was this what he'd been hoping for all along? At the time I wasn't sure. How much did he know? I didn't know the answer to that either. What confused me though was that if he _was_ involved and this had something to do with him, why alert me to it? Why go to the local cops and ask for help? Why break in to my apartment and try to get me involved with the team? It at the time made no sense at all and the rest of the team weren't about to allow me to talk to him about it. Oh no… I was pulled right back out of the way and that was probably the best option.

o-o-o

Rossi and Hotch did the initial interview. Emily, Derek and I watched from outside and listened in. Floyd didn't seem to mind being there. He looked sort of resigned about the whole matter. Rossi started.

'Do you know these people?' He slid some photographs over the table towards him.

Floyd picked each one up and looked at the young face peering back and shook his head. 'Never seen them before.' He was then given a list of names and he ran his finger down the row of fifteen names and nodded. 'Well yes, I know these names obviously. I showed this list of potential victims to the local cops and they weren't interested.' He leaned on his elbows. 'I was right wasn't I?'

'Right about what?'

'That something odd was happening at that fucking college. Sam was doing well. I got emails from him full of over excited expletives telling me how shit hot the place was and how well he was doing. I don't think he was mixing with the others but he was getting top grades which's not too surprising, but this shit… this crap going on… He suddenly stopped with the tech jargon and started on about saving his spirit and fuck knows what else. I was out of the country. I couldn't go slap him around. Then I come back and find this shit going on. It shouldn't have effected him like that.' He pushed the list of names back towards Rossi. 'You know… well you might not actually know but Hotchner there knows full sodding well that Sam is damned to his very core. If he wasn't he wouldn't exist. He needs me to de-programme the damage done. Is that all? I'll be going then.'

That wasn't all though. 'How did you get the list of names?'

'I hacked… I erm…' He stopped and frowned. 'I'd like to smoke if that's OK with you? I find it easier to think when I'm surrounded by smog and full of caffeine. You'll understand that though.' He paused and Rossi and Hotch just watched him carefully. 'You want me to beg?'

'What I want.' Rossi said. 'Is for you to tell me exactly where you've been this past two years and why you're back now and what you connection with these young people is.'

'I've been over seas. Abroad. Visiting family. You know? Back to my roots.' Floyd was talking in a virtual whisper but _back to his roots_ wouldn't involve London and Paris whatever he might want us to think. I start fidgeting and cracking my knuckles. I really want to believe him. I really do want to trust him but now I'm doubting everything he's saying.

Rossi and Hotch both stood and left the room, locking the door behind them. 'He's lying.' Rossi said. 'He knows a hell of a lot more than he's letting on. He hacked the college network. I need to know what sort of computing skill level he'd need to do that. Reid…' He turns to me, '… you know him better than any of us. Does he have that sort of skill? Can he actually do that?'

Well he wanted us to investigate and I suppose now we are. 'I think he probably can. He puts across a dislike for computers and phones but he's far more knowledgeable than he lets on, but I don't understand, if he has done something why alert us to it?'

'That much I think is obvious.' Morgan this time. 'Like always he's messed up and wants us to fix it. Exactly what he's messed up doing I don't know yet. Reid…'

I nod. 'I know… I know.' I turn my back and walk away with Hotch hard on my heels.

'Garcia is going over the computers belonging to the victims. I want you to go find her and see what she's found out. There has to be a connection between them and Flanders and I'm going to find out what it is. I have a strong feeling that whatever is happening to Sam was not what he expected. As Morgan said, he's messed up and needs a way out and he's using us to sort it.'

'I'll go see what Garcia has.' Though I know if she had anything yet she'd contact us. He's trying to get me out of the way. He doesn't want me around when they confront Floyd over this. I cant get it out of my head though… some of the odd ways he's said things… some of the odd things Sam has said. I want to also go and find out what's going on with Sam. Someone should be there for him. Someone he knows. Someone who knows his background and a bit of what's going on. I pop down to see Garcia first though.


	5. Chapter 5

5

'It's the same story with all of them.' She tells me after I've settled on a chair next to her. 'They receive the downloads which they accept… and then college work drops off dramatically. But look at this too.' She clicks open some screens. 'Even though in public life they might not have been connected but they certainly had similar night time interests. They were all signed up to online porn sites. Actually they were all involved in live web cam goings on.' She carried on when I didn't say anything. 'They've not cancelled their accounts but the last log in dates are all a good few months ago. They just stopped logging in to them.'

'So that's the connection?'

'Sam too. He was signed up to this one… and though it might not look like it is, these sites are all run by the same people. So different site names, but the same set up. I'm thinking that someone contacted all of these young people by somehow getting their names via these sites. Then offering them something better… well not better so much as much more disgusting, but they seem to have been targeted carefully. Now what I would like to know is how many of the students at this college were signed up to sites attached to these ones and how many of those accepted the downloads. Oh and they all received this which I've not looked at and don't really want to look at but by the size of it I'd say it's a document of some kind or maybe a small virus. I'd rather not open it right now. I need to have a better look, but I also want to know who wrote this. Most people who write a virus or some sort of nasty programme will have a signature. I want to look at the raw programme and see what I can find. I don't really want to be forced or coerced into some kind of end of the world salvation thing. If we could as everyone who'd had this salvation file sent to them to come forward we might be able to see more of this picture. In the meantime I'm going to rip this baby apart and see who wrote it and what exactly it is it does.'

And so that's what Pen had to say. I kept quiet for most of it. I got a nasty shiver down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. This is Floyd. Floyd has done this. I know it. I can feel it. I can almost smell him coming out of the computer screen. I'm baffled though as to why he tried to draw my attention to it before we knew of it. Was it some kind of self defence to make it look like it wasn't him? I should go and see Sam and find out what's going on there too, but I need to get back to Hotch. I have to find out what's going on with Floyd and report back on what Garcia has found. With a sigh I make my way back to where they have Floyd locked in a room.

I told Hotch and Rossi and of course Prentiss and Morgan what Garcia had said and now we are all crowded around that room again looking to see if Floyd is doing or will do anything. At the moment he's pacing the room. He's nervous. I can see that and I'm sure that the others can too. This makes me nervous too. I don't want to have found him again just to lose him so soon. They want to search his house but will need a warrant to do that and they've been told that they haven't got enough reason to suspect Floyd of wrong doing. I know… it's ridiculous. Morgan requests that he goes in and talks to Floyd. We all know Floyd's not going to like that and Derek remarks that if Floyd shows his true colours he might say something more. Something to give us reason. Emily goes in with him. I stand by the window again with Hotch and listen. Rossi goes off intending to try to talk to Sam about things.

'What the fuck do you want?' Floyd snaps at Morgan.

'Sit down and talk. I want to know everything you know.' Morgan sits. Emily stands at the door for now.

Floyd sits at the table and sighs. 'Where do you want me to start? The beginning of time? Can we jump forwards a few millennia or I'll be here for fucking hours.'

'You know what I mean. Tell me what you know about what's going on at the college.' Morgan looks calm.

'The college that Sam is at? Of course… of course… silly me. What other would you be talking about? I don't know much, just that Sam's emails to me stopped being so much about his study and about how he was dirty. I agreed with him. He's a whore… at least he was. He was a junky bit of street scum. A maggot with a brain for numbers is all. Nothing else. A brain and a nice little arse. However he was going on about salvation and saving his soul and crap… burning in hells eternal fires and that stuff you get from religious nuts. He's not religious in that sense though. You know that. He has his own little belief system which doesn't much include playing a harp and watering pot plants. Now explain to me how Sam can be saved when he's so fucking damned? It's like me expecting to… it's like me needing… it's as stupid as if I thought I could get my wings back. Sam never had any fucking wings to start with. He's my cuntboy is all. That's all there is to him. He's damned. This purification thing wont work with him. Would you expect it to work with him? Why did he take notice of this shit?'

'You're making no sense.' Morgan tells him.

'I'm making perfect fucking sense boy!' Floyd stands up now. 'He cant be fucking saved! Why did he even try? What got him thinking he could be?'

'Something to do with his computer?' Morgan asks.

'Fuck!' Now Floyd is pacing again. 'You really think I'm a moron don't you? Stop nodding - you motherfucking meat boy! I'm not a fucking moron! You should be scared of me Agent Derek Morgan! Are you scared of me? What about you sweet Emily? Do I still make you _tingle_? You still want me? I'm trying… I'm trying so fucking hard but I have to be what I am! I have to do what I'm told.' He slumps in the chair again. 'But you'd not understand that would you Derek? It's like you standing in the fucking shower trying to wash that dirt off your skin; trying to act like a white boy when you'll never be. It's how we are. You're what you are… Emily has tits… I'm me. I've tried… fuck I've tried but I'm basically a nasty evil little bastard who works towards getting what he wants. You cant understand that cant you? You can see that I've tried? You can see that in some respects I've changed, but that deep down thing which makes me what I am… well I cant purge myself of that the way Sam is trying to. The way those kids are trying to. The difference being that I cant fucking kill myself, though I suspect Sam can if he carries on as he is.' Floyd then holds out his hands for Derek to see. 'What do you see Morgan, look closely and tell me what you see?'

Derek looks down at Floyd's hands. 'I see the hands of a man who cleans floors for a living.'

'Oh you're amusing. Do you see blood? Do you? Can you _smell_ death on me Derek? No… no you fucking well cant. There is none. I've not raised these hands to anyone… not in anger and not for my own needs. Oh no. This is not a whole new me but definitely a partial new me. You like it? You like what I've become? Things used to be so much easier you know, but I accept at last – it's taken a while, but I _do_ accept that walking into places and killing people isn't the way to go. So here I am… what do you want to know?'

I feel sick. I know what Floyd is and I know he'd never stop being who he is. The answer I am sure is at his house but he's pulled me in already even without having to really try. They cant get any more out of him though. At that point he clams up and refuses to talk. And really what has he said which sounds like he is actually sane? Nothing. He knows more than he's saying. Oh a lot more and I want to get him to relax and tell me exactly what's going on and why he contacted me if he's got something to do with this. Why give us partial information… enough to get us curious and suspicious yet not enough to arrest him for something or fix the problem?

I give him a lift home. He gets out of the car in the driveway and stares at his front door. I get out of the driver's side and stand next to him. 'Any chance of a drink and something to eat?' I ask him.

He turns and smiles. 'You still want to? Yes, yes… come in and have something to eat. Promise it's nothing you shouldn't be eating.' And so we sit and just do idle small talk for a while and he drinks and we eat cheese and ham and crackers. Finally he says something. 'You know what I am Spencer? You know I'm a collector?' I look around and nod. There're no books or dolls here. If he's collecting he's not got anything out on display. 'I mean… I don't mean items…' He saw me looking around. 'I mean souls. You know I collect them.'

'I thought… you said… Floyd you said you had no blood on your hands. You'd not raised your hand to anyone. You said…'

'Oh forget that… sure… and no, no I've not actually. You know I'm going to have to leave again. I'm so fucking angry with Sam. I cant believe he's done this. I need to stop him first and finish up here and… I was going to stay longer. It's not worked out as I wanted it to.'

He's leaving. He's running away. I thought stupidly that he actually had feelings for me, but for some odd reason he was just using me. I feel hurt and angry and yes, I feel rejected. 'I missed you so much.' I say stupidly. 'I was hoping…'

Floyd grabs my hand. 'Then offer yourself to me! Oh shit… oh shit… I shouldn't have said that!'

'I've been virtually throwing myself at your feet! What do you want? You want me to beg you to have me?' Now I'm really angry… I scowl at him and get up to leave.

Floyd stands too. 'I need you so much I think my heart is going to explode.' He tells me. 'I have to have you with me.'

'But you cant ask? I have to offer to come with you?'

'Section five paragraph nine clause twenty. It's complicated.' He mutters.

'I think it's time you sat and explained everything to me. What exactly is going on with these college kids and with Sam? What do you know?' I sit down carefully. Sudden moves… no sudden moves. It feels as though if I do something to alarm Floyd that he'd just run and leave a Floyd shaped hole in the wall. 'Just start at the beginning. Tell me where you've been. Sit next to me… Floyd… sit…' I pat the floor. 'and tell me everything.'

He sits but looks far from happy. A big sigh follows and he starts picking at the skin around his thumbnail. 'I had to make things right again.' He tells me. 'It's not right though is it Spence? And I cant possibly tell you what's going on or what has gone on or what is going to happened because you'll run your little deceitful backstabbing self right to your beloved Hotchner and blab. So I think I'm going to have to keep my mouth shut about what I know as such. I can though tell you where I've been. I sent you postcards. You shouldn't need to ask.'

Floyd goes to get up again but I place a hand on his knee and stop him. We sit there for maybe a minute or so with him looking at my hand and me looking at the side of his face. 'Tell me what you can.' I don't deny that I'd tell Hotch if Floyd said something I should report back. 'Tell me what's going on with Sam? Tell me where else you've been. You said you'd gone home, back to your roots. That's not Italy Floyd. I at least know you were lying about that.'

'If asked…' A hand rested over mine. '…I would say that's where my roots are, however you're right… I was _home_… though I did visit Italy and I really did wish you were there. I had stuff I had to do. I had deals I had to make. I needed to sort the mess out I'd made and left behind. You know I'm not a bad person Spencer.'

I laughed and moved my hand away. 'That's exactly what I don't know!' I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. There's no resistance. 'But you have to explain this deal and you have to tell me what's going to happen to Sam… and to the other students.'

'I would think that they've sedated Sam. I would also think knowing what a mess he was in that he's on a drip of some description putting nutrients back into his system.' I nod at Floyd. I would imagine that's what would happen too. He carries on. 'He's been trying to purge. Get rid of all chemicals in his body. He'd reached or was at least close to reaching the next stage and they're going to fuck it up for him. Sam has only one option left to him… he's going to try to kill himself. There's no point in him continuing now. There was no point in him starting it all in the first fucking place! It's like me going to confession and expecting my damned soul to suddenly be accepted. Actually it's worse than that. He knows what he is Spencer. I've never hidden the truth from him. He knows what he is the same as you know who and what you are and no amount of you sitting in the tub for day after day would make you grow gills… it's the same thing. Wish all you want, but you are what you are. Now even his delusion has been shattered. They'll have set him back too far to be able to start again. He has no choice but to top himself. I even know how he's going to do it. Train will take his head off, at least that's the game plan. Don't look so alarmed Spence, they're going to keep him strapped to that bed. He'll be screaming for salvation and they'll assume his bonkers and keep him safe. They _will_ keep him safe Spencer. No need to look so concerned. As for the others? Well I really don't know. I thought this was the way to go… the modern world requires modern tactics. Deep down I'm an old fashioned boy though. Old world morals and the world I come from is very old and maybe our morals are a tad twisted if you compare them to here but Spencer you have to put things into perspective.' He looks down at his hands and leans heavier on me. I think his mind has gone. Whatever Floyd was and wherever Floyd was he's not here now. This isn't the man I knew and loved (?) maybe feared. I could, and I really mean this, I could defend against this thing leaning on me. If he'd not done what he'd done in the summer house and thus proved to me that this is Floyd then I'd have strong doubts. 'All I can do is move things along faster.'

'Stop beating around the bush Floyd. Tell me what you've done and what you can do to stop it. Are you responsible for the deaths of those students? Is it because of you that Sam is in the state he's in now?'

'Not my fault… I didn't touch them.' That wasn't what I'd asked and he knows it. 'Fine. Come with me and I'll show you something but you've got to firstly promise me that you'll not pass on this information to Hotch… or the team… Spencer it's important that you don't. I have to complete this as much as Sam has to complete what he's done and I wont permit you to get in my way. This is not about the salvation of those people. This is purely all about me.' He pushes away from me and stands. 'You want to see? You want truth? Come on then… don't sit there like a fucking rag doll, get the fuck up and I'll show you.'

At last the threats. He took his time reaching this stage. At last the flood of adrenaline. The feeling that I'm going to have to fight my way out of this. Oh I'm not a hero, don't get me wrong. I'd rather talk my way out of a situation, but this is Floyd we're talking about here and Floyd will eventually use his fists on me. Can I walk away now? Can I turn my back and leave the house? Should I try? I push my fingers through my hair and slowly stand. 'Killing me wont help Sam.' I tell him.

'I know that. Nothing much is going to help Sam now unless I can get to him and re-programme what's been done and I cant do that if I don't have everything ready now can I? I never said I'd kill you Spence. I'll leave you to do that yourself. Come on… you wanted to know what's going on?' He takes my hand in his. Tightly in his. Too tight, but I don't pull away. I let him lead me over to a doorway set into an alcove. He pulls out a card and slips it through an electronic lock. 'Most of the doors can be locked with one of these. The room I had Sam in had a key. I had to have him in a room with a mechanical lock. I don't know how he is at getting through electronic security. Pretty good I'd imagine. Anyway…' The door buzzes and he drags me through into a room. There's a stack of packing crates over to one side but most of the room is clear. There's a big desk and a couple of chairs and a computer quietly purring away. 'My office. Where I work. Now listen to me and listen carefully Spencer. I'm going to show you some stuff and other bits I'm just going to talk to you about and you're going to have to trust me. You can trust me cant you?' Of course I cant! '… Well trust or not I cant show you everything or you'll end up as bad as Sam… then again I can show you the raw programming and not the end result. I'm not sure how up you are on this.' I sit in a chair and Floyd sits in the other and he's smiling. 'Well it's like this. I have to kill. It's my nature to kill.'

I try to get up again but he's got a hold of my hand still and wont let me. 'Just listen to me! I have to do this. I'll get such a spanking from the boss if I don't, that you'd never see me again and I know you don't want that. I've had to use all my powers of persuasion on them and now via here on those stupid sluts and filthy whores and drug abusers at the college. I thought it'd be harder but there's so much of it out there now Spencer as you well know, that catching a few like this was child's play. That particular college was bad though. I had a look at a few before I decided to pick on that one. Just so happened to be the one Sam was at. I have no idea if there's a connection. It doesn't matter now though, what's done is done and I need to know if I let go of your hand if you're going to try to escape from me cos I don't want to have to beat the shit out of you Spencer. I want to explain what's going on.'

'I'm listening to you Floyd.'

He lets go of my hand and nods. 'Well the door is locked. You can try to get away if you want but then you'll not really learn shit will you?' I have to agree on that point. If he can show me what he's done and then if I can get out of here alive there's a chance things can be corrected… maybe. 'Look, listen and learn.' Floyd starts flicking open things on the computer. Symbols and numbers scatter and blink and the light in the room is dim with this eerie green glow from the computer screen making Floyd look more than a little bit creepy. A look of deep concentration on his face. 'You see each of those people who are having trouble at college was involved in some nasty thing.' He glances at me and I nod back at him. The link to the porn sites is what I assume he means. 'Rory Walker was a nice lad. Kept good grades. Did his family proud did Rory. Proud mister and misses Walker. They would have been shocked at what their beloved got up to.'

'The porn sites…' I start to say but Floyd lets out a snort of laughter.

'Oh if only it was just that Spencer. If only. He was a rent boy. He was paid quite large amounts of money by older men whose cheap rented rooms he'd go back to for a buggering. Dear Rory loved to be sodomized and being paid for the treat was just the icing on the cake don't you think? Oh Spencer I know what you're thinking! I've used rent boys… I've nothing against the practice in the slightest. What I'm against is this boy with his sparkling blue eyes and perfect fucking life hid it so well. He had an STI and spread it to his girlfriend then accused her of giving the disease to him when she realised she was none too clean. Rory wasn't nice Spencer. I just put some ideas into his dirty little head. You know the eternal fire crap which gets a good reaction from so many and has done for such a long old time. People don't want to live in pits of fires for eternity and if you can give them some kind of idea what that'd be like – you know pass on information to that person – then sometimes, just sometimes they'll try and do something about it. So my thought was if Rory was such a skank and a dirty disease spreading whore then maybe he needed some assistance to show him just how nasty he was. Give him some dreams… subliminal messages passed on via pornography. Oh it worked beautifully. Now onto Susan Banks who like Rory had the perfect life and lots of friends and very good grades. All assignments handed in on time. The perfect fucking student. Except she worked as an escort. Quite a high class one too Spencer. I doubt you could have afforded a bitch like Susan. She got pregnant though… this was the thing which annoyed me about her. She got up the duff and then went and had a very illegal abortion. She was far too late into her pregnancy to have been able to do it legally. So you see that perfect angel was nothing but a murdering slut. The lists are endless. Do you want me to go through each of them? Oh let's pick up on Sam shall we? Sam Trent. Top student, if a bit argumentative and didn't form friendships with his peers, no matter… let me carry on… top grades, scholarship student, part time whore, drug addict… his whoring paid for his drugs. Now you see that the people I picked and Spencer I picked them very carefully were not fit to be living creatures in the first place, but the decision was all theirs. I've not actually had physical contact with any of them. They will all kill themselves because I've planted into their heads that the only way to avoid this imaginary fire and reach salvation is to purge, punish, repent… and then wait for my word. Oh and I'll give it! All I have to do is send out a couple of messages and fifty odd kids will walk to some secluded spot and top themselves and I've not done it! I've collected them and not had to get blood on my hands.' He turns to look at me again and I snap my mouth shut because I certainly have something to say to this mad man; I just have to be very careful exactly what it is I say. 'It's the perfect crime I suppose. But now you know about it and Sam's in the shit. I have to sort out those two big problems and _then_ it will be the perfect crime. Why are you gaping at me like that? I've done worse. I've done much worse. This way it's really only the scum I'm sorting. I've cleaned things up and do you want to know something really odd and I'd not considered it when I started this project, but not one of those seeking salvation has asked what they get if they don't burn forever in hell! Don't you think that's insane?'

I shake my head. 'No. Actually it's you I think is insane. You have to stop this now Floyd. Send them a message or something… stop them.' I place a hand on his arm I don't want to show how angry I am. It's not worth it. My anger makes him laugh.

'One message and they're gone.' He whispers at me. 'You want me to change it? Stop them? Say they don't need to die?'

'Exactly.' My hand tightens. 'If you could put this in their minds then you can change the outcome. This is your game and you're in control. Just change the ending. Alter is so they don't have to die.'

He turns in his chair and faces me. 'And what is the fun in that exactly? Where do I get my kicks if I release them?'

'Your kicks?' Why does this surprise me?

'I want to feel their lives passing Spencer. I know it's not the same as killing with these.' He shows me his hands. 'But it's a hell of a lot more fun than scrubbing the fucking floors. It's sending me crazy babes. I cant keep going like this. I've got to do this last message… and then… it's over. I'm done. Well except of course for you and Sam. Both of you I can sort easily enough. Oh sweets, don't look at me like that. I'm not going to kill you. Not yet. That can wait. I have to explain things to Sam first. You though watch… watch this. You'll get all tingly just thinking about it. I know you will.' He turns back to the keyboard and his fingers fly over the keys. 'Mail sent.' Floyd mutters and then turns to me again. 'All done. It's like setting a long fuse on a huge and very spectacular firework display. We can go outside and watch the stars if you want.'

'Stop… Floyd for the love of… please, please stop this madness!'

'It's not madness! It's the most sane thing I've ever done! Sure Rory was a sweet rent boy, but damn Sam's better and so are you come to think about it. Rory didn't know the tricks the pair of you two do. I don't need them. No one needs them. Those cheap nasty whores.'

'You slept with Rory?' I don't know if I'm shocked or upset or just feeling so empty that my emotions are turned off. I really don't know.

'No. I fucked Rory. And I paid him for the pleasure too. Paid him well. I fucked him in the summer house and then in the pool. That was rather a nice treat.'

Whether he was trying to wind me up or not I don't know but it worked. I waited for him to look at me and slapped him hard across the face. 'Stop what you've done now!' I shouted as my hand made reasonable contact with the side of his face. I don't know exactly what happened next. I know the end result though. I wasn't sitting on the computer chair anymore; I was laying on the floor with a crust of dried blood under my nose, aching in every part of my body from my head to my toes. I wasn't in the computer room anymore either. Glancing around the room I could see I was very probably in the room Sam had been locked in. The plastic sheeting was still on the floor and there was a faint light coming from a fixture on the wall. Groaning I rolled onto my side and looked around to see if Floyd was here with me. No… no he wasn't. I seemed to be alone with my clothing in disarray and only one shoe on my feet; the sock was gone too. The Floyd I'd come to… love – had finally come back and done to me what I would have expected and in a sick way I felt slightly smug that I'd forced his hand – and feet – and got him to react in a way I would have expected and not the odd slightly creepy way he had been behaving. I laid there and listened out for any sounds, but all I could hear was my breathing and my heart thumping in my chest. The curtains had been pulled closed and there was no light coming from under the door. I pulled my clothing back together and as I did up my shirt I noted the bite marks on my chest. Again I got that odd slightly smug feeling. It was wrong. I shouldn't be feeling like this, but I couldn't help it. The door was locked which wasn't a surprise. I crawled to the corner of the room which didn't actually have a bed in it and curled up and waited for Floyd to return. He would return. I knew that much. Some people would call Floyd unpredictable. His moods swing violently from one extreme to the next in the blink of an eye, but to me Floyd was acting exactly as I would have expected him to. Nothing unpredictable about him once you really get to know him. I guessed that I'd be here locked in this room whilst he went to check up on Sam.


	6. Chapter 6

6

I woke up to the gentle prodding of a booted foot on my arm and the words. 'Hey Babes. Time to wake up sleepy head.' Floyd was back from wherever he'd been. I rolled over to look at him and he crouched down beside me and ran a finger over the side of my face. 'I've been thinking, with all this shit going on – you want to go camping?'

What he means is _do I want to come with him when he runs away from the mess he's made?_ I rub at my eyes and run the back of my hand under my nose but I don't give him a direct answer. 'What about Sam? What about all those people you've give a message to?'

'Oh no worries. I'll pick up Sam later. I went to visit but they said it was too late. Those kids deserved what they got Spencer. I'm not sure why it's bothering you. So that's a no? You don't want to go camping with me? Well me and Sam obviously. I need to unwind him as such. Repair the damage. You see I have a slight quandary. Do I leave you here to blab to Hotchner about what I told you or do I drag you with me? It'll be fun. I can at least say it's going to be fun. I was thinking you see… a hike to the mountains.'

'The mountains? What mountains?' I push up to sit. If he's going somewhere I can at least attempt to get a general location off him. I cant let what he did go without making Floyd see what he did was as bad as going to the place and opening up on the students with an automatic weapon. Or just bombing the college. He just cant see that though. He's as blind to it as Sam is to what he's been doing.

'Well walk north from anywhere far enough and you'll find mountains eventually. Unless you've reached the furthest point north obviously and then we'd have to walk south, but I'm not much in the mood to traipse to the north pole. At least not this week. So you in or out? I need to know cos I've this van you see and I'll go get some of your shit and pack up for a vacation somewhere with waterfalls and little streams full of fish. I want to fuck you under a waterfall.'

He's crouched down next to me with his back against the wall and is staring at some point far off into the distance. 'You know what you did to Sam and the others was wrong.' I tell him. He sighs in response. 'You brain washed them. Manipulated them.'

Floyd cracked his knuckles and pulled his gaze away from his imaginary waterfalls and fish filled streams. 'It's what I do best. Well at least if I'm going to be this all new me it is. Do you know how good it feels to have the lives of all those people under your thumb? The click of a key and _Kaboom_.' He makes a fist with both hands and then opens them again. 'All those lives Spencer… all those people begging me to save them. It makes my balls tingle just thinking about it. You don't have a fucking clue do you? I offered them salvation if they begged me enough… grovelled to me… showed me their genitals on the webcams! Fuck Spence! To have that many people begging and pleading and pouring their filthy hearts out to me.' He shook his head slightly and then turned to look at me. 'But I'd give all of that up you know babes? I'd throw that all away… You know I'd die for you don't you Spencer? I said I had to send out two messages. One was to tell them to prepare. They should have done that by now. Chosen their weapon or theme whatever… it's not important. Now I have to send a message telling them either to carry on and finish what they started or that they have completed and are saved.' A small shrug now. 'What do you think I should do? Oh don't tell me… let me guess. You want me to tell them they've completed. Tell them to get their arses back to school and get their work in. Tell them to go get a proper job if they want money and not prostitute themselves. Tell them to stay off the drugs. Tell them that I'll always be watching and waiting and if they slip I will give them that final command. You want that I would think. But where does that leave me Spencer? What do I get out of that?' A finger runs down the side of my face. 'I'll leave you to decide babes.' He stands and wipes the palm of his hands on the side of his jeans. 'Either offer yourself to me or I kill those kids. What do you fancy for dinner? I've got most anything you could wish for except chicken. I've never been a big fan of chicken. I'll leave the door unlocked. Have a shower and make your way down and I'll make up something delicious for you and you can tell me what you've decided. I don't want to rush you Spencer and you know I made this deal and part of that states… well you have to be the one who decides. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. You OK? So shower and I'll cook and then maybe the summer house for a bit of a roll around and then tomorrow we'll do whatever it is you've chosen to do. I'll even let you press the big red button. Either way it's going to be the end of something and either way I'm leaving.'

He leaves me sitting on the floor and he does leave the door slightly open. I listen to his footsteps fading down the hall and then running down the stairs. After the shower I pull on my grubby clothes again and walk down to the kitchen which seems to be full of the most fantastic smells I've ever encountered. Floyd has a pinny on over his vest and jeans and his hair is tied back. I stand with my back leaning on the wall and just watch him for a while.

'So you know that feeling yet?' He suddenly spins on me armed with a wooden spoon.

'You mean how it feels to have the life of someone in your hands?'

He grins at me and walks over offering me a taste of what's on the spoon. 'See! It's a wondrous feeling isn't it?' I push his hand out of the way. I don't want the spoon in my mouth. I want to talk to him.

'And if I say I'm going to walk out of here and report you? Get your computers impounded. Get someone to rip your machines apart and take this little game out of your hands… then what?'

He throws the spoon over his shoulder where it lands in the sink. I don't know if that was luck or a very good aim. 'That wasn't on your list of options though Spencer? I said…'

'I know what you said. What if I don't like the options?'

He gives his head a quick shake and prods me in the chest. 'Don't move.' He goes and takes the food off the heat and then returns and prods me in the chest again. 'You know when you have to fill in online forms and you get a drop down option… maybe it's gender… male or female… you tick the one you officially are. Not the one you wish you were… not even maybe the one you were born as, but the one you really are. You know what I'm talking about? You can choose one or the other. There is no other option. You cant make one up yourself and add _alien_ or _transgender_ to it. You _have_ to be either a male or a female. You get me?'

'I get you, but if that form said race and the drop down said _white or black_ and didn't have others… well there's usually an _other_ option.'

'But I'm not talking about if you're a fucking nigger Spencer!'

'Nor are you asking me my gender!' Now I prod him back. 'You're saying to me that I can either come with you and those people live, or I can be dragged behind you beaten, raped and bleeding and those people will die. You see your options don't give me leave to choose to _not_ go with you.'

He glances down at my finger and then into my eyes. 'Why wouldn't you want to come with me?' Is that a genuine question? Does he really not know the answer?

'Maybe because you're not the person I used to know. You're not the man I loved. I don't know what you are now Floyd but you're a long way from the Floyd I was…'

'… groomed by? Manipulated by? Beaten by? What?' He turns to carry on cooking the dinner.

'I wasn't groomed Floyd.' I snap at him. 'I just maybe don't want to spend the rest of my life running away from the only people who are my friends. Oh apart from you.' I quickly add. 'I'm not you. I don't want to live in the forest.'

'You were certainly groomed. I fell for you when you were a kid. Everything I said to you was a part of my final plan. Of course I groomed you, silly Spencer. Those innocent little touches and pecks on the cheek and even the way I held you or you held me. Oh Spencer, nothing innocent as far as I was concerned. I wanted your arse from when you were a kid. I waited though. I waited… and now I have you. So you're coming to the forest with me and Sam? Camping… or maybe a log cabin. We always have a hoot in log cabins. I'll even let you screw Sam if you want. Lovely smooth hairless skin he's got. Beautiful. This food is done. Get some bowls and a fork each. We can eat here or in the hallway. I'm not bothered. Or out by the pool.'

'The pool you had fun with Rory in?' I fairly snarl at him.

'Oh I'm going to have that thrown at me every time you see a swimming pool now am I? Fuck Spence I offered you Sam.'

I laugh at him. I really laugh. 'As compensation? You are a prize jerk sometimes Floyd. You really cant see what an ass you are can you?'

'Arse… I like the word arse. Say it for me sweet thing… I'm not a fucking donkey or mule but a nice ready and willing arse I am. No denials. Compensation though? You will accept that? Will that stop you moaning? Where are the fucking bowls I told you to get? We cant eat this off the floor, though the floor is very clean…'

As though I want food right now, but remembering what sort of a mood he gets in when food is turned down I open cupboards until I find bowls to put this strew type thing in he's made. We sit on the kitchen floor and I've still not given him my answer and I can see that he's waiting for me to tell him what I'm going to do next. 'I'm not going to decide yet.' I mutter to him once I've finished eating the most delicious thing which has ever passed my lips.

'Oh… but the lives of all of those people Spencer. I've transferred it. It's all in your hands now. Tell me. Are your balls tingling?'

If they were I'd not give Floyd that much satisfaction. 'You know what you've done.' I tell him.

'Of course. It's a threat. Come with me voluntarily or I'll kill all those people. It's simple. I'm shocked at you Spencer. I didn't think you'd have to think too much about it. Just so you know though that if those computers are impounded I'll not be able to tell those kids that they can stop what they're doing. I might not give the final command but they'll end up in a loony bin and their lives will be over anyway. They'll all end up like Sam. But that's up to you. Let your food go down a bit. I have some ice cream. You want ice cream? Of course you do. You love ice cream and so do I when I'm licking it off your cock. Do you mind which flavour? I'll even let you slather it on my chest for your licking pleasure. See what I do for you? I'm not a bad person Spencer.'

Not a bad person.

And I really do think that he believes that. I really do think that by passing the buck to me he thinks he's not to blame. I certainly don't want to be to blame either! I know I have to do what he's told me to do. 'And if I get up now and report this all to the team?' I ask.

'You cant do that. It's not on your drop down menu.' He puts a hand out and takes my hand in his and lifts it to his face and slowly kisses each of my fingers. 'I told you what your options are.'

'I know what you told me, but if I get up now and walk from the house…'

'Then I'd have to send out that final message wont I? And then come running after you and break every sweet bone in your body. I will then drag you back and slide your broken bleeding form into the back of the van where I will likely be overcome with lust and have to stick things in your orifices and then go get Sam. That though isn't an option really is it babes? You don't want to do that. You may do one of the following; tell me you want those people to live and then come with me, or tell me you want them dead and then come with me. It's fairly simple, but you do have to be sure what you want and you do have to tell me.'

'Then send the message. Tell them to stop what they're doing. I will give it two days Floyd. Just two days. If anything happens during that time which makes me think that you've lied to me then I'm going to fight you tooth and nail and I wont be coming with you and Sam to see the mountains.'

'Also not on your list of options.'

'No… no, it's on yours.'

He gets up and walks out of the room without saying another word to me. I stay sitting on the floor and I wait with my head tipped back resting on the cupboard door and my eyes closed. I'm still trying to decide if I should follow him or not, but I feel so tired. It's a familiar tiredness which brings back foggy memories of Floyd drugging me to keep me in his control. I glance at my food bowl still sitting there dirty and wonder if he's doing to same again or if this is pure stress. A tongue running over the side of my neck alerts me to his presence again. 'All done. I've sent a message instructing them. Telling them that they're chosen and saved. Now… to the summer house my boy.'

I have to ask him. 'Did you drug my food?'

'I thought about it, yes… certainly considered doing that. I may have even done it. I cant remember. We ate the same stuff though Spence and I don't feel drugged, so I'd guess maybe not? It's not important though.'

Drugging someone with their food seems very important to me. 'Do you really believe that? My feet have gone numb? What did you give me?'

'Shrooms babes, if anything, just something to relax you. I feel lovely and relaxed.' A big grin. 'We can stay here on the floor if you want, but you know I'd really love you to do something for me.' He kneels in front of me and makes a crude gesture with his hand. 'For old time's sake? Or maybe just cos you love to pleasure me?'


	7. Chapter 7

7

I awoke this time to the sound of shouting. I couldn't work out where I was at first but it seemed I was still on the kitchen floor. 'It's Hotchner. Get dressed.' Floyd was hissing at me. 'I'll keep him occupied for a few minutes… say you're getting breakfast. Move it sunshine, we don't have long.' And he's gone. I pull my clothes back on and grab a clean bowl and shove the dirty ones in the dishwasher. I'm making coffee when Hotch walks into the kitchen with a frowning Floyd about an inch behind him. 'Seems you're late for work and not answering your phone.' Floyd's face breaks out into a malicious grin.

'Hotch. I'm sorry. I'll get my things.'

He's shaking his head. 'I need to know what's going on first.'

'Oh tell him everything Spence. Don't miss out a single lick or nibble. This old pervert will want to go home and give himself a good play thinking about it.'

Hotch though requested firstly that Floyd stopped breathing down his neck and then that he let me talk to him alone. Floyd gave me a sharp knowing look and stepped back a bit. 'I'll be on the steps then.' He walked away without further question.

'Is he threatening you?'

It was obvious I would have thought. I had a split lip to prove it, but of course I denied it. 'No. No I'm fine Hotch really. I just need time. Some time… a while to… to sort things.' To run away I meant. Run away to the mountains somewhere. 'I need to sort things out here before they get, get messy.' Time to fiddle with the coffee machine. 'Do you want coffee?'

'I don't want coffee thank you Reid. What I want is for you to either pull yourself together or hand me your badge.'

I wasn't expecting this and I didn't know where either my gun or badge were! Floyd had taken them at some point and I had no idea where he'd put them. 'I need to talk to Floyd about Sam and then all will be sorted. Everything is going to be good Hotch. You don't have to worry about me… about anything. Really.'

He was watching me closely. 'We are working a case.' He snapped at me. His face was hard and uncompromising. I'd seen that expression many times before but not often when talking to me. 'If you cant do your job because Flanders is in the way then you're no good to me.'

My stomach twisted. I wanted to tell him that I'd sorted the case. That everyone was going to get better. That all was just wonderful. But I just stood there looking at him waiting for him to see between the cracks forming and to see the hideous things I knew. Floyd had been away for two years. I thought I'd dealt with it. I thought I was over it, but it appeared not. 'One day Hotch. That's all I'm asking.' I lied to him. Again and again I've lied to him in the past. It used to be hard to do. The guilt used to weigh me down, but now it just felt as though I'd slipped right back to where I was when Floyd had a hold of my mind. I was right back at the beginning. My Floyd twelve step programme had crumbled and I needed my fix desperately. 'Please.' I added. I thought he'd stand and argue with me. I thought he'd go through all of the reasons why I had to leave with him. I thought he'd tell me what I should do, but I guess I'd reached a stage when that was no longer a viable course of action for Hotch. He just turned his back on me and started to leave. At the doorway he turned to me.

'You know what will happen if you don't turn up tomorrow don't you?'

'I know. Thank you Hotch.'

A quick nod and he was gone. I heard the front door slam and then there was silence. Five minutes later Floyd bounced back into the kitchen looking like nothing had happened. He told me to hurry up and drink my coffee. 'We've got to pick up Sam. You did good!' A quick friendly kiss on the mouth. A quick mind blowing kiss and he was pulling on a jacket and almost looking excited. 'An adventure.' He announced.

'Floyd… they will find all that stuff on your computer.'

'What stuff? Oh the porn and the crap I sent out? No worries. I put a hammer to the lot and poured stuff over it. When I set this place alight it'll go up in a big fiery lump. They'll get nothing off it. Well maybe they will, but by then we'll be miles away. You didn't tell him where we were going did you? You didn't blab to Hotch I trust.'

'You're going to burn this house down to cover your tracks? Why doesn't that surprise me?'

'Because it's a brilliant plan! Now let's go get Sam. He'll be freaking out all alone in that fucking hospital. He's a good lad really and I really do promise that you can share him with me. He knows some wonderful tricks with his tongue.'

I explain to him that the plan is a long way from brilliant. I tell him that by burning the house down he's putting peoples' lives at risk. He paces and stuffs his hands in his pockets and paces some more. He then tells me. 'I don't want to break the law Spencer. I don't want it to look as though we're running from something. We're not. You see? It's a problem because I know how smart that Penelope is; even though she looks like an over stuffed carnival cushion… she's got smarts and so I cant risk that.' He paused as he inspected his fingernails. 'Killing her is out of the question I assume? Yes… of course it is. You'd rather I was hung drawn and quartered wouldn't you? You…' A prod in my chest now. '…You would rather just have Sam to yourself wouldn't you? Am I too old for you now? Is that the problem? Is that why you're constantly pushing me away?'

What he was going on about now I had no idea. I did tell him that killing Garcia was not going to happen and I told him that I'm not even slightly interested in Sam. This I thought would force him to choose a different plan to escape the carnage he was leaving in his wake but it just brought up more questions.

'What's wrong with Sam? Why don't you like him? He's fucking perfect! Well when he's not shitting himself he is… a wondrous little whore he is Spencer and you shouldn't make such decisions until you've tried it. He'd let you have him. And he's cheap too. Not that I pay, but you'd have to I expect. He has to eat you know? No one can live without earning a wage so you'd see Sam on the streets? Living in the gutter? Eating out of bins?'

Paranoia? I cant think of what else is causing Floyd to start talking like this. I try to explain that the reason I don't want Sam is because I have _him_. I don't need anyone or anything else.

More pacing ensues. 'You're a fucking liar Spence. I've hardly had you since I've been back. Oh! I see! I understand. All the time I've been away trying to find a solution to our problem you've been fucking Sam!'

'Take the hard drives out of the computer and just leave. I've not _had_ Sam. I don't want Sam! I've not been pushing you away. I just want to get out of this mess in one piece. I don't want to have to be looking over my shoulder for eternity. Sort out the computers. We have to pack…'

He cut me off there. 'I've packed for you. No need. We can pop back and let Sam get some stuff though. Oh and before you start nagging and whining on at me and bemoaning your fates, the van is legal. I purchased it from a used car lot place for cash. I have all the papers. I'm insured. I have a license. So don't even start on me about that. I've not broken the law.'

Floyd really honestly seemed to believe that. 'Where's my gun and badge?' I ask as I rinse out the mug I'd been drinking from. The water caught on the edge of the mug and sent a fine spray of water over the front of my shirt, but when I turned to Floyd again he was gone. I heard an interior door closing and assumed rightly that he'd gone back to the computers to sort them out in a way better than setting fire to everything.

o-o-o

The trip to the hospital didn't go as smoothly as Floyd would have liked. Sam was, not surprisingly, resistant to Floyd's charm and so were the doctors. I stood back and watched Floyd argue that Sam was his and he would do what he wanted with him. He informed them through gritted teeth that he was going to take him on vacation and let him get some real air into his lungs. Sam… I could hear him screaming at everyone to let him go so that he could fulfil what he'd started. First voices were raised and then language upped a notch and Floyd attempted to explain to Sam that he was going to go with him and he had no choice. I stood in the passageway and closed my eyes and waited for Floyd's temper to reach the point of no return, strangely though it didn't. Floyd ended up virtually ripping Sam from the bed and dragging him by his hair down to where the van was waiting. It was me who signed him out with a nervous smile and lots of apologies. I think in the end they were glad to get rid of the foul mouthed youth and his ward. The three of us squeezed into the front of the van and Floyd left the hospital with a calmness which not only amazed me but sort of scared me too. I like to be able to see what's coming next. I like to be able to pick out his posture or that twitch at the corner of his eye, or see what he's doing with his hands and predict what he's going to do next, but he had a dreadful calm about him.

The calm at the centre of a terrible storm.

Sam was raging on. 'You cant make me do this! I'll burn forever in hells furnace! You've cursed me!'

'I went through a stage in my life where I thought that to carry on and leave a mark that I needed someone to pass all my knowledge down to.' Floyd spoke still with his ghastly calm voice as we headed out in a general northerly direction. 'I made a couple of automatons to see if I would make a good father. I think I did a reasonable job of it. I then tried out a real person… Rosa… a real bit of offspring, but she was taking too long to grow up and her attitude stank. Then I decided that a nice young man would be better. I could not only pass down to him how to hunt, collect, trap, survive, but I could fuck him at the same time. Sam shut up whining and just listen will you? I went to the proper powers and put in a request. Sam my darling little slut boy you were damned from the moment I told them I wanted a companion. You fucking well know that. You're not even bloody human. You're a little maggot of a very low class demon. How in the name of everything fuckable do you possibly imagine that you can be saved? You're _not_ going to burn forever my little princess. You will just cease to exist. You have no soul or spirit as such. You just are what you are. There's no salvation and no afterlife. Except there is. I'll just get another one of you made with the same memories and shit. You are my immortality. Suck it up kiddo. There's no fucking salvation. I only sent you that stuff so it'd not point dirty BAU fingers in my direction when the shit hit the fan.'

'Oh my fucking _god_!' Sam wiggled around on the seat to look at Floyd properly. He was sitting in the middle of us. 'You cunting fuck of a bastard!'

'Mind your fucking language you little shit. Don't you swear at me. Remember who the fuck I am.'

'A fucking shit poor role model is what you are. I don't fucking believe you. You fucking well made me shit myself and piss and vomit just so bloody Hotchner wouldn't think it was you! You're fucking un-fucking-believable sometimes! This is child abuse! You cant do this.'

'Sam…' Floyd let out a long deep sigh. '…I just told you. You're a fucking demon. You're hundreds of bloody years old. You're not a child!'

I really didn't know how much of this spouting from Floyd's mouth was truth and how much was just one of his stories. And I don't think I actually cared right then what it was. Nothing was making any sense at all. I only knew that right there and right then I was thirsty. I popped open the glove compartment to be faced with a jumbled mess of bent shiny metal. Floyd explained to me… once again back to his calm self that they were the hard drives he'd removed. Wonderful. I felt just great being a virtual captive in an old van with a very unpredictable Floyd, a screaming raging Sam and a glove compartment full of illegal pornography. I slammed the thing shut and asked if we could pull over at some stage for a rest stop. I got no answer. Floyd was shouting at Sam again by then and Sam was feet up on the facia kicking and cursing. I could see that this really was going to be the trip of a life time.

'I want my own clothes! I don't want to run around the forest like some fucking imp or whatever in hospital pyjamas. You need to go to my apartment and let me get my stuff. This is so fucking unfair Floyd. You cant do this to me. I'm sick. I'm not well. I was hospitalised because I was having a psychotic episode or something. I'm dangerous! I'm a danger to myself as well as everyone else. I'll top myself. I'll slit my writs! Spencer don't just sit there like a fucking lemon; tell Floyd he cant kidnap me like this! I have needs. I'm a special needs kid. I have to be treated delicately. You cant haul me out of the hospital like that! OK I accept that you tried to brainwash me into killing myself and I made a right turd of myself in the process – and thanks a fucking bunch for that you bastard – but now I'm better I need drugs for my bad back. Oh my fuck! My back! Oh gods alive and saints above me! I've never felt such agony! I need morphine now! Oh come on don't look at me like that. Actually don't look at me at all look at the fucking road before you drive head first into a snow plough or a tree or something… Fucking hell Floyd! Look where you're fucking driving… What the fucking fuck are you fucking well doing!'

It was then that I turned to see what Floyd was actually doing and looking where he was driving wasn't one of those things. He did slow down from about 100mph to around 50mph and he took one hand off the wheel and prodded Sam hard in the eye.

'You motherfucker!' Sam carried on.

'Now shut the fuck up before I prod you in the other eye. What's wrong with it anyway?'

'Well a lot now that you've scratched it with your dirty fingernail. Thank you so bloody much. I fucking hate you Floyd! I had everything going well. I even had some scientist bloke coming to visit me and talk about things… he wanted me to join him in a top secret lab in Idaho.'

'They have top secret labs in Idaho?' Floyd laughed. 'What's wrong with your eye was what I asked. Not who would employ a pretty little gimp with a drug dependency problem.'

'It was in Idaho or Alaska or somewhere… I cant rightly remember exactly. Definitely wasn't in fucking Vegas. Only whores and gamblers work or live there.' I muttered a sound of gratitude to Sam which was ignored. 'I got an infection in my eye last year. I thought it had something to do with the syphilis but maybe it wasn't. I've had a few STD's so it could have been any of them. I'm clean now though. I had drugs to clear it up. I thought I was going crazy though. Fucking hell when you have syphilis Spencer does it drive you fucking crazy?'

'I've never had syphilis.' I inform him.

'Oh plenty of time for that. I get loads of diseases cos I bareback when I get fucked. It's just one of those things.'

'You'll end up dead.' I tell him. 'There's worse than syphilis out there for you to catch.'

'Oh I know… I know. I'm sort of careful. I go and get checkups every three months, but this shit with my eye started with my last big infection. I had to skip college for a few weeks I was so ill with it. I caught it off some old fuck who gave me a lift somewhere I reckon. And yeah I know I shouldn't get lifts from strangers but I'd been out and needed to get back to the college and he offered. But yeah it was from him or from that cute tranny I was knocking around with. You'd like him Floyd. He's really sweet and has got great hands. So I don't have to kill myself to be saved? I can go back on morphine then? Where are we going to get dope in the forest Floyd? Oy! Don't forget I want my clothes.'

And finally he shuts up for a while. Floyd's ignoring him and I'm attempting to take in all Floyd has said and admitted to and now all that Sam has said and admitted to. And you might be wondering why the devil I'm with these two people… Well good question. I guess being with Floyd is about the only thing which makes me feel alive. My job is my job. Floyd is my passion. Sam though… looks as though I'm just going to have to tolerate him for a while. I do have to ask Floyd a lot though. I've not forgotten. I just want to ask him my questions when he's relaxed. I don't want to have to shout over Sam's story of STD's and other lovely street diseases. At some point during that first day Floyd pulled over at a gas station and filled the tank. He got in sandwiches from the small shop and we sat in the cab and nibbled on slightly stale bread and drank watery coffee. Sam pulled his sandwich apart and placed all the little bits separately. He informed us both that it's very common for people like the gent running this place to put rat poison in sandwiches. He claimed it'd happened to him before. If the idea bothered Floyd he didn't show it and ate his cheese sandwich without dissecting it first. I must say though that I was a little bit more cautious. Sam's sandwich ended up being thrown out of the window and then he started complaining that the coffee tasted odd, which it did… vastly… but only because it had probably been sitting in the machine for weeks. His coffee went out of the window too. As did Floyd's. I drank mine and got no ill side effects. Floyd had found out that there was a small motel a few miles further up the road and that if there was room we'd be staying the night. This brought on a fresh lot of complaints from Sam.

'I still don't have my own clothes. When are we going back to get them. Having your own clothes on is important. It's part of your identity. Spencer is in drab greys and shows a distinct lack of imagination. You… you're dressed like you don't know what day of the week it is anymore. You're scruffy and disorganised. It shows on the outside what your inner nature is.'

Floyd grinned at Sam. 'So you want your mesh shirt and vinyl shorts? What does that say about you Sam? I don't think that a Barbie raincoat and pink Wellington boots are going to be suitable. As for your love of mesh? Well princess that sort of thing will only be useful if we need to catch some fish. I'll get you something. There's hiking shops along the way. I'll get you something which will pass as clothing. I was going to ask though… how long have you been cross-dressing for?'

I admit I had a smirk on my face. It's an expression which is difficult not to use when you've been hanging around Floyd for any length of time.

'I fucking hate you! You've been looking at my stuff! It's not cross-dressing stuff. I just like to wear skirts sometimes. They're men skirts. I got them in a mans' shop in the city you stupid bastard. If girls can wear trousers and jeans then I can fucking well wear a bloody skirt! What's your sodding problem? Those things were expensive. I had to work my arse for long hours to get the money for those things. And what about you all scruffy and stuff. Yeah you're usually dirty but at least you used to wear nice stuff and hand stitched shirts and velvets and crap but now you look like you've got your clothes from a goodwill store and I'm actually ashamed to be seen with you. Fucking hell Floyd, Spencer looks better dressed than you do.'

'You're right in some respects.' Floyd ruffled Sam's hair. 'Exterior does mirror the internal. This is my _I don't give a shit_ look. I've left off my _murdering cannibal _look for now. Don't worry… start to worry when I put on my waistcoat again. Are we ready to go now?'


	8. Chapter 8

8

The next couple of days went by in a swirl of foul language and resentment. All of – or at least most of it – from Sam. I have to say that I did feel that I'd rather be at home than sleeping in grubby motel rooms. Sam kept up a constant stream of abuse until he couldn't stay awake any longer and fell asleep in the bathtub, which had no water in it. Floyd wouldn't allow him to sleep in the bed and it didn't seem to cross Floyd's mind to get a room with space for three people; even though I'd suggested it more than once and Sam had screamed the idea at Floyd. I suspect that this was the reason Sam was in the empty tub and Floyd and I were in the bed. I did sleep. It didn't come to me easily but yes I did fall asleep. For three nights we did this and each night when I woke up Floyd's arms were still wrapped around me. A very small comfort but it did feel unbelievably good. I said there was pain… I made the mistake of trying to call Hotch to let him know I was alright. Floyd was in a small store getting some food and Sam was sleeping in the van so I took the chance. I thought it better for him to know I was here willingly than to have people sent out to find me. Floyd ripped the phone from my hand though and talked to Hotch. I couldn't hear what Hotch was saying but I stood and listened to what Floyd said. I didn't really have an option. He was holding me by my hair – trying to get away would have just caused more pain… so I stood like an idiot and listened.

'The reason he's with me is 'cos with me is where he wants to be.' He said. 'No I've not hurt him. Why would I hurt him? What do you think I am? You really do think I'm a monster don't you? No he's not interested in explaining it to you. No I'm not passing the phone over to him. No you cant tell me what to do. I'm not you little boy for you to order around.' He paused and listened. 'Well maybe he's with me because I can offer him something more than death and…' Another pause. '… don't you fucking well talk over me you son of a bitch! I've not killed anyone.' Yet another pause. 'Not this week I've not. I'd like to see you prove it.' Listening again. 'No Hotchner he's with me rather than hanging around with you because he wants to be with people closer to his own age. He doesn't want to spend his life following around miserable old mother fuckers like you. He wants excitement and you Hotchner are too blinkered and staid to notice what you've become. You shut the fuck up and listen to _me_ for once. I've listened to you… I know you have a problem with me. I know you're pissing your pants with fear that I'm going to do something to Spencer but you need to listen to me and you need to understand something. Right… you have that on speaker phone? I'd rather not have to repeat this to that lump of meat and that old fuck Rossi… Just listen… Great… thank you. Spencer had a choice. I didn't coerce him. I didn't hurt him… I said for you to fucking listen! You will listen or I'll put the phone down on you and you'll never hear from Spencer again… you got that? I know you're tracing this call and I don't give a fuck. I'll give you the address of the place if you want. What was I saying… Yes… You Hotchner used to be a good looking chap, but that job of yours has aged you mightily. Spencer doesn't want to hang around with an ugly old fuck like you. Thank you… I'm holding the phone out so Spencer can hear…' He turned to me and shoved the phone against my ear and mouth. 'Tell Hotchner you're OK Spence.'

'Hey… yes I'm fine. Everything is just great. No need to worry…' I would have said more but Floyd pulled the phone off the wall and tossed it over the parking lot.

The first night we are in the motel I get down to asking Floyd why he came to me to ask for help if he knew what was going on from the start. Why get involved at all. Why come to me?

'I needed some pretext to visit. You know?' I didn't know. I told him so. 'Well I have this deal going on with them upstairs, or downstairs, wherever you want to think they are. I wasn't allowed to come fuck you unless you asked. I sort of cheated I suppose. I needed to get some people dead and I wanted to try to upgrade how I did it. Well, no… fuck… forget I said that. You see if bodies had started turning up why would I come to you for help? You'd have known it was me, at least you'd have guessed and guessed rightly too, so I needed a ruse as such to give me a reason to come asking for help. I knew Sam would react to it and that's what I had planned on doing. I just didn't know he'd react quite as badly as he did. He's recovered well though don't you think? I know he didn't eat his food, but that's his phobia of being poisoned… something different that is and he has good reason to fear that. That is survival instinct and it's there for a good reason. So yep… I cultivated a problem which wouldn't look as though I was involved and then came to you. And it wasn't easy. I had to get you to… I couldn't jump your bones. They wanted proof that you wanted me. Even if I was being an awkward son of a bitch. Does that make sense?'

It didn't. 'You did all of that so you would have an excuse to break into my apartment?'

'Yep. Now drop your trousers. You owe me.'

o-o-o

I was a sweaty exhausted lump kneeling at the end of the bed with Floyd pressed hard – very hard – behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my back as I lay there with my eyes closed wondering how I'd gone two years without this. I let out a long contented sigh, pushed up onto my elbows and saw Sam sitting on the bed with his back to the headboard and his arms wrapped around his legs.

My thoughts ricocheted through my head. They were all screaming different messages at me. Floyd was still behind me pressing hard against my butt and Sam was beaming a sweet innocent smile. How long had he been there? Did Floyd know he was there? _Why_ was he there!

'Sam?' I know that even with that one word my voice was shaking – for lots of reasons. One of them was Floyd's tongue making its way slowly across my back.

'Hey.' His smile grew bigger.

'Sam.' I said again as much to be sure that he really _was_ there and to alert Floyd to the fact (if he didn't already know, and I suspect that he did.) 'How long have you been there?' I tugged at the bedding trying to cover my nakedness.

'Since around… erm… Oh yes… it was at; _Oh, oh, my sweet god, give it to me harder…_ I think. Do you want a post coital smoke? I'll go get some. A drink maybe?'

'What are you doing there?' Still tugging at bedding which didn't want to do what I desperately needed it to do. Floyd moved back away from me now so that he wasn't pressing against me, but his tongue was making its way down my back. Maybe it would have felt wonderful had a teenaged boy wearing grubby hospital pyjamas wasn't sitting there watching.

'As a professional I thought you might want some ideas. But you did quite well really. A tad boring I'd say, but you've been out of practice. That's at least obvious. Unless you're always a boring fuck? I'll get that smoke. Looks like Floyd's going to be a while longer there. You've not satisfied him Spencer. You need to watch that. As I said I'm a professional… so just ask if you want to know some cool tricks.' He slid off the bed at about the same time Floyd's tongue slipped somewhere. I had two handfuls of bedding now and it seemed that my wriggling to get away from Floyd was just encouraging him to delve deeper.

'Floyd please.'

'Hmm… I love it when you beg me.' His tongue was now meandering over my butt. 'Sam I'll have a smoke and in the van there's some wine. Fetch some please princess? Spence sweetness sit on the bed and let me finish you.'

That was not going to happen. As soon as Floyd had released me I was dragging the sheets around my self and moving away. 'I don't need to be.' I snapped at him. 'Did you know Sam was there?'

He gave me a small shrug. 'Does it matter? We're all buddies aren't we?'

I was fully dressed by the time Sam came back into the room again. He made himself a coffee and took himself back to the bathroom which was where I thought he was going to be…

'It's wrong.' I told Floyd. 'I don't want him… I don't like…'

He swigged back on his wine and looked at me standing there with my arms crossed defensively across my chest. 'It's not all about you though is it Spence? There's me and there's Sam… So really you don't get the final vote on how things are.'

'Your personality upgrade didn't include any sense of morality did it?' Yes was angry.

'Nope. What's the point in that? It'd just get in the way of what I need and want.'

I sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. I needed a shower but now Sam was in the bathroom singing some song in a language I didn't recognise and I wasn't much in the mood to strip off in front of him. 'Then what _did_ this mysterious upgrade include?'

Floyd fiddled with his belt for a few minutes and half drained the bottle then sat on the bed next to me. 'Well it went a bit like this. They thought I had a rather high opinion of myself. I was entitled to that opinion as far as I could see it. Still am too. They seemed to be under the impression though that I was a bit of a scum bag – that's putting it mildly. They told me I was a worthless bit of shit and no good to anyone. An unloved poor little waif. A bit like Sam. They said I was paranoid and delusional. They said I could only get someone to talk to me if I beat the shit out of them first or at least threatened to. I admitted this happily. That's what I am I think… don't you? So they gave me a little mini-mission. You realise that it was do what I did or blink out of existence don't you? It's not something I ever planned, but they were right… my lifestyle had become such that if I wanted something I took it. If the person I was taking didn't like it… well it never crossed my mind that you'd not come back begging for more. I gave you a year. I cleaned up my act a bit… a small bit. I stopped drinking whiskey… I stopped contact with you for a while… I fucked around with that Rory kid a bit, but that was recent shit… Can I get people to top themselves just by the power of persuasion? Can I do that without ever meeting said person? Yes… sure I can. It's so much better ripping people apart though Spence. You can see that cant you? Where was I? My upgrade? I am now a far more thoughtful person. If you don't want me – when you're awake and/or conscious then I'll not pursue the matter.'

'You didn't kill all of those people on the list though. Does this mean you're due to go on a murderous blood filled spree? And Floyd, forcing yourself on me after you've beaten me doesn't really sound like you're being thoughtful. Nor does it sound like you're thinking of anyone but yourself allowing Sam to watch.'

'No blood filled spree. No need.'

That's his answer? Why does that bother me? 'Floyd… did you tell those people that they don't have to do what you'd set them up to do?'

He shrugged and stood up. 'I'm going for a smoke out there.' He gestured with his thumb towards the parking lot outside the small room we were in and I stood for a short bit wondering if I should kick Sam out of the bathroom and have a shower or if I should follow Floyd and find out what he did. 'You told me you'd sent out a message.' He's sitting on a bench which encircles a small tree in the middle of the lot. 'You said that you'd told them it was OK.'

'My personality upgrade didn't include not being a compulsive liar. Not going to apologise.' He handed me a smoke.

'I don't smoke.' I snapped but I took it anyway and pressed it between my lips in temper. It was that or start to lose my rag with him. 'What else have you lied about?' I sat on the bench and stared at the door to our small cheap nasty room.

He puffed away and placed the bottle of wine on the bench between us. 'You want a full confession? I don't know if you could handle that Spence. You like to see me as you've imagined. You place excuses for all I do in the way to fog your mind and allow you to still be with me. You'd not like it if I told you that I told those kids to go carry on starving themselves for three days and then choose a method of completion suitable to their crimes. If I told you I'd lied about most everything since I broke into your apartment that day what would you say to me?'

'I might believe you.' I talked in a whisper because really it made more sense if it was a lie. If everything was a lie. Maybe I wasn't even here. I'd been having headaches which the doctor could find no reason for. Maybe I'd cracked. Perhaps I wasn't here and none of this was really happening. I could be sitting on a plastic covered chair facing a window with my mouth slightly open and drool running off my chin. I picked up the bottle and swilled it around a bit, but Floyd snatched it out of my hands.

'Oh and I put something in Sam's sandwich too and in his coffee, but not yours. Just his. It keeps him on his toes. Don't drink my wine Spencer. It's got an added buzz to it.' Floyd grinned. 'You stink. Go tell Sam to get his arse out here. I'm going to have a chat with him and you need to wash. Get something fresh to wear out of the van. Oh and Spencer… what Sam said about the way you dress…'

I shook my head. I wasn't interested and I wasn't going to dress as the clown Floyd would like. 'I don't understand you. I don't understand why you do what you do and then act as though it's normal! Why did you put poison in Sam's food? Why do that! Cant you use some other method to teach him to beware?'

He made that irritated cutting gesture with his hand. 'Shut the fuck up Spencer. Tell Sam I want him. I was just going to tell you that I adore the way you dress is all. Fucking hell. Have I ever poisoned you Spencer?' He's standing gripping that bottle of expensive wine in his hand.

'Actually yes! Yes you have!'

'Exactly! And now you're more cautious. He'll learn. Eventually he'll learn. And so will you. Sam's nothing. I don't love or even like him. He is exactly what he appears to be… Therefore as I've been to anger management and as I've been shown that if I love someone I don't beat the shit out of them then rape them…' He's looking at the ground and not at me. I lick my lips as he talks. I can feel where his fist split my lip. He thinks he doesn't beat me? '… I will use Sam. If you don't do what I ask I'll not hurt you Spence. I really wont. At least not as often as I might have in the past. I will though make Sam's life a living hell. Now run along and do what I told you to do.'

Yes I did as I was told. The kicked dog usually does. You'd think that after all this time my compulsion to do everything he told me to do would have died back… gone completely, but no… I might have slightly more backbone now; I might be able to actually ask him what I'm thinking and have the ability to voice an opinion or tell Floyd that I wasn't happy about something. That would be as far as it would go though. He claimed that he wasn't going to beat me. He claimed that was what Sam was for. He'd transferred the violence to someone else. That wasn't something I was going to be able to allow. I would step in the way and prevent Floyd from raising his hand or fist or any other body part to Sam. How many ragged beaten down followers does Flanders need to inflate his ego to the point he can function and not have to get off his face with drugs? I therefore watch from a crack in the curtain of the motel room when Sam goes out side to see what Floyd wants. I watch an exchange of words. I watch Sam waving his arms around gesticulating about something and then see the slump of his shoulders. Floyd doesn't hit him. Sam walks away towards the van and Floyd looks right into my eyes. He knew I was watching. Was that why he didn't hit Sam?

The shower was slightly rushed. I didn't spend as much time washing the filth away as I could have done. I couldn't afford to let those two be together alone for too long. Not only was there violence being threatened but also Floyd's unceremonious announcement that Sam was for his use. And I'm far from blinkered. I know that he _will_ make use of him. He may not have a blond woman on his books but he certainly has a dark haired teenaged boy. Telling him that what he wants from Sam is more than a bit illegal is pointless. I think I spent more time scrubbing at my teeth than standing in the shower. Why I have this taste in my mouth I don't know. A vile bitter taste. Disappointment maybe. Self loathing certainly.


	9. Chapter 9

9

Sam's not outside with Floyd when I exit the room again. He's sitting with a now empty bottle and yet another smoke between his lips. There's a small pile of crushed butts on the ground by his feet. I ask where Sam is and Floyd explains carefully…

'Sometimes it's best you don't ask questions.' He licked the rim of the bottle. 'I need another drink.'

'Have you hurt him?' I had visions of a battered dead Sam in the local undergrowth now.

'No I've not hurt him. I gave him a job to do. What's the point in having a fucking slave if he never does fuck to help out? He'll be back. Not long either.' I point out that it's dark out here and Sam only has pyjamas on and get a shrug back. 'You have to learn to trust me.'

He's joking. He has to be joking. How can I trust him? He's admitted that everything he's said is a lie, but I saw his computer set up. I don't know if he was telling the truth when he said he'd _released_ those people from what they were doing or if to believe his claim that he'd sent them to their deaths. 'Is Hotchner going to be looking for you?' It seemed the best way to find out which he'd done.

'Undoubtedly. He will have his irrefutable evidence that I've committed some vile and ghastly crime. He'll come a wading in with his little bullet proof vest on and his meat Morgan at his side – eyebrows ahoy! Spencer, he will attempt to persuade you that you need to go with him. He will open fire on me and I'll lay bleeding in the dust with Sam screaming and running at Morgan to rip out his throat. Sam will probably get one between the eyes. Feds are trained to shoot to kill. You know that. I don't have to tell you that. But yeah… you know that already. I'll recover. Sam will be dead you will spend the rest of your life knowing that someone died because you didn't trust me.'

'I don't know what to believe any more. Where is Sam?'

He shook his head at me. Some of his hair stuck to the side of his face and I reached out and pushed his hair behind his ear for him. 'I'm not telling you where Sam is babes. But that's for your own protection and my peace of mind. You don't need to worry. You smell sweet. How's the arse?'

Floyd had noted that I wasn't sitting and there was a reason I wasn't. I licked at my lips and went down into a careful crouch. 'Painful.' I whisper to him and rest my hands on his knees. 'But… Well if it wasn't…'

He ruffled my hair which I knew was too short for his liking. '… if it wasn't then you'd not be happy. Look here's Sam.' He gestured over at the shadows. 'Told you he was OK.' Sam kept to his shadows and crept to the van. He replaced something in the back and then walked over to the pair of us.

'Not interrupting am I?'

I can see he is caked in dirt.

'Go get washed. Tomorrow we'll stop off somewhere and I'll get you some nice new clothes. But only if you behave. And only if you eat.'

Sam's eyes narrowed spitefully. 'I'd rather go naked than put poison into my body. I'm not eating shit. Maybe when we reach the forests I'll find something but nuhu… not until then. I didn't go through all this pain and suffering just to scoff my fucking face off at some crappy fast food joint… plus have you seen what that shit does to your skin? I don't want spots ta… I'm going to go wash… I'd sooner go naked than have to eat so you'll clothe me. Fuck you. Fuck both of you.' He squeezed out a tear which he then wiped away with the heel of his hands and stomped off back to the room.

'I guess that's what happens when you constantly poison someone.' Floyd smirked. 'They get _very_ paranoid.'

I return now to a subject which Floyd thought was closed but I've hardly started with. 'Will Hotchner be looking for you?' I ask him again.

He put down the wine bottle on the bench next to him and placed his hands over mine. 'He may well suspect Spencer, but there is no proof that I've done anything. You're here because you want to be. I've not kidnapped you or Sam. You're both sleeping in beds and not in gutters or ditches. You're both alive. He can come looking, but he'll be disappointed when he arrives.'

He's not answered the question I need to know the answer to. 'Floyd back at Luther College… are there going to be a lot of suicides because of a message you sent out?'

'What you need to understand Spencer is that sometimes people do things which on the surface appear pretty damned nasty but if you look into it you'll see that actually that person has done the world a service.'

I paced a small tight circle and then crouched in front of him again. 'You lied to me… you really lied to me. Why would you…'

'Self righteous prig.' Floyd stood and grabbing me by the hair pulled me up to stand too. 'The less you know the better. I'm not going to tell you all I do. I've never told you all I do. Why is this so fucking important? It's not like they were innocent kids. They were nasty evil bits of shit which didn't deserve to be alive. I targeted them Spencer. I delved into their past and their present and maybe a bit into their future too. They'd come to nothing. They'd have or father kids which would end up in care because their parents were in prison or dead… or just unfit. Why do they need to be alive? What's the point in living? Have you ever asked yourself that? What is the point in your personal life Spencer? What mark are you going to make on the world? What have you provided which will make a difference? I'll tell you because you've got that confused blank look on your face. You've tracked down your UnSubs and you've taken them off the streets. It's a good thing Spencer. A very good thing. Your mother would be proud of you if she could be anything… which she's not much anymore… What I did was no different to what you've been doing. I'm removing them from the picture before it's too late and innocent kids get involved. Before the government has to pay to keep them locked up… before some poor shit finds their body rotting in an abandoned building with a needle hanging out of their arms. Tell me what I've done is different.' He lets go of my hair and prods me in the chest. 'I'm not the bad guy here Spencer.'

o-o-o

I don't know if we are on the run. It feels like we are. So on day four when Sam's complaining that he feels ill and has horrible pains I put it down to the lack of food. Floyd seems to think differently though. He does the unexpected. Very unexpected. We had been driving through a small town. My stomach was rumbling and Floyd was talking quietly to Sam who was moaning that his balls felt like they were going to explode and he had a screaming headache and a sore throat. The surprise was not Floyd telling Sam to stop moaning and to eat something but that he pulled over into a hospital parking lot right near A&E. Had Floyd in all the time I've known him ever brought me to a hospital? I don't recall it happening. He's seen me being taken, he's visited me… oh! Yes I do remember once he thought he'd killed me and he took me to a hospital. I think that's the only time though. Thus his worry over Sam having a sore throat makes me think that his claim that he didn't even like Sam let alone love him was yet another falsehood. I have to tell you that Floyd actually looked concerned. He told me to either wait or come with him, and then dragged Sam (who was still in the hospital pyjamas) into ER shouting out for someone to give him help now. A raised voice in the ER never helps. It winds people up. It makes them think you're a drunk and a pest, but that wouldn't have occurred to Floyd who pushed Sam down onto a plastic chair and called for a nurse to come sort him out. The nurse was a nice looking young woman who gave Sam a very curious look and asked what the problem was.

Floyd said the following. 'He's a whore who takes it up the arse bareback. Sore throat. Pain in the groin. Temperature. What the fuck do _you_ think is wrong with him? Sort it now woman or get me someone who can.' She raised a pretty eyebrow at Floyd and looked at Sam.

'We will have to do some blood tests. Can he walk?' She's not talking to Sam, but she's watching the sweaty shaking thing sunken down into the blue plastic piss proof chair. Sam gives her a nod and stands up and follows her slowly. Everyone is watching. Floyd didn't really keep his voice down when he spoke to her and this place is pretty busy. Sam looks like a child… he doesn't look like the drug abusing rent boy that he really is. If you want to label him. They give him a bed and they do blood tests. Floyd told them that he suspected syphilis and he was right and he's given penicillin. They've caught it early they tell Floyd, though if Sam's not been having sex for weeks or months even during his purge I cant see how they've caught it early unless Floyd… I start pacing, but I know I shouldn't suspect him of such things and I know you don't have to have sex to catch this. Floyd suggests that I get tested too. Great. Wonderful! I know somewhere Garcia is sitting looking at her screens waiting for my name to pop up; have I used a credit card, have I been arrested, have I been admitted into hospital! She will see. She will know. What will Pen think of me when she finds out that I've had treatment for a disease which was all but wiped out ten years or so back. This is not even slightly amusing.

'They will know where we are if I register myself here.' I tell Floyd.

'They will be looking for Sam Trent too Spencer. Get the pills. Make sure you're OK. It's preventative. I've not given you anything…' He placed his hand on his heart. (ha!) 'I promise.'

And it's a promise so I have to believe him. As far as he knows he's not infected me.

As far as he knows.

But how has Sam caught it?

'Snogging some dirty mother fucker. Probably Rory.' Floyd must have been reading my mind.

o-o-o

Floyd continues to shock me by booking us into a nice hotel for the week. 'I want everything to be right.' He informs me, but that's not what it is. I can see the way he's looking. I can see the way he's keeping his back to the wall and a door in sight all the time. He's waiting. At some stage he's bought Sam some clothes. A nice pair of jeans and a blue shirt which Sam doesn't object to. He puts the clothes on and ties the shirt up at the front. Floyd's purchased (stolen?) a pair of silver glittery sandals for Sam too. We have a lovely hotel suite with a balcony looking over the bare rear of the place. In the summer it would be full of people sitting around the pool, but it's too cold now. Not biting cold, but not warm or sunny enough to sunbathe and splash in a pool. Food is sent to the room but Sam's still refusing to eat. I know how he feels. I'd like to nag him and tell him how bad for him this practice of refusing to eat is, but I'm not the one to tell him. If I was Sam I'd not be eating either. We watch old movies and Floyd and I eat popcorn and pick fault with everything and actually even though we have long tedious bouts of Sam's whining we seem to at least on the surface to be relaxed. Floyd is horribly subdued. I would like to think it was concern over Sam but I don't think it is. He knows that someone is going to come for him and when that knock on the door happens he just shrugs and lets out a small sigh. It's Hotch and Morgan. They want to talk to Floyd. Obviously they do and Floyd was expecting them to. They want to talk to him down at the local police station but Floyd's having none of it.

'I cant leave Sam here alone and you cant take him with you. He's poorly which is why we are staying here for a while.'

I see Hotch and Morgan look at Sam who is sitting with his back pressed against the balcony doors. I follow their gaze and see a youth who does actually look ill. That's not a surprise. He's still not eating. Sam looks angry too though. 'I'm staying here. I'm ill. I've been told to rest and you're just going to make me relapse.' They want to know what he's poorly with. 'A little touch of syphilis.' He informs them. 'I'm taking meds.'

'Not sure where he picked that up. Wasn't from me.' Floyd lets them know. 'And Spencer was tested and he's clean so it wasn't from him either.'

'Thank you.' I mutter and I hear a hiss of breath being drawn in passed Hotch's teeth. They want to talk to all three of us though so staying here isn't going to happen. They also want to look through the van and Floyd happily hands over the keys and tells them to do what they want but not to scratch the paintwork.

'I'd rather Morgan didn't go look through my van. I don't trust him.' Floyd snarled. 'You know what that sort are like. He'll not be able to resist keying the paint.'

This isn't helpful. They are assuming again that I'm a victim, dragged away from my friends by a psychopath and held captive in a random hotel with a syphilitic young man. They think they've rescued me. How many times do we have to go through the same scenario before they will understand why I go happily with Floyd? Kicked dog syndrome? They want to think that, but it's not.

I was permitted to stand the other side of the window and watch Rossi talk to Floyd. Seaver looked eager to go in and talk to Floyd too, but she was sent to go make coffee before she could start to ask inane questions. She tapped me on the shoulder making me jump and asked if she could talk to me about things later. She was pretty insistent. There was nothing I wanted to talk to her about but as Rossi and Flanders were still on a stand off and Floyd refusing to say a thing I thought I'd get Seaver out of the way first.

'Why do you keep the company of a serial killer?' Well she was nothing if not straight to the point.

'I don't keep the company of a serial killer Seaver. And if I did I wouldn't think it was your business.'

'Your private life would impact…'

'Not your business who I spend my time with.' I then turn back and look through the window at Floyd sitting with his head cocked slightly to one side listening to Rossi.

'We had a long close look around your home. The CSI had a long look too. Very interesting.'

'Only interesting if you're looking for crates of shit I've not yet unpacked.'

'And vandalised computers.'

'Not vandalised Dave, just broken. Is that coffee ever going to arrive?'

'Where are the missing bits?'

'Where is the missing coffee?' He answered. 'Where's Sam. You're looking after him aren't you? He's still not eating. Has some phobia against being poisoned. I'm working on that with him. It's going to be a long process. He has to learn to trust me.'

Rossi nods. 'He's being cared for, but that's not why you're here. I want to know what was on those computers. I want to know why you persuaded twenty two people to kill themselves.'

Floyd looks down at his hands. 'Twenty two? The number has gone up. It was five last time I was here. Dave, I wasn't around. You know I wasn't around. Spencer knows I wasn't. Sam knows… though Sam, I should warn you is a liar and a thief… and a cunt grabber. Keep that blond bitch far away from him. He'll have his dirty syphilitic hand right up skirt. Talking of syphilis – where's Emily? You want to know about my computers?' I knew what he was doing. He was attempting to distract the interview with filth, but this was Rossi… and he wasn't going to be distracted by Floyd in the way that Morgan may have been.

'Where are the missing pieces of your computer set up?' Rossi asks him again.

'I removed them. They were full of home movies and pics of a very _very_ naughty Dr Reid. I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted you to have seen them and I knew that Garcia would get her sticky know it all fucking nose into my system… it's like rape you know. Can you imagine being raped by Penelope? Not a nice thought. Anyway, I thought Spencer would want his privacy kept and so I removed them.'

Rossi still didn't bite. 'And where are they now?'

'I disposed of them. I'm not sure of the exact location because I gave them to someone to get rid of. I thought it better that way. Though I don't think that BAU would put me on the rack or lay me out and press me, I still think you have your own torturous ways of gaining information illegally and so I made a decision to not have the information you require. Coffee? So did you find anything interesting in my house? Bodies buried behind the walls, floating in the pool, nailed to the wall in the summer house, hanging from the trees in the garden, packed away in a crate all putrefied and slimy… anything… nothing? You have no proof that I've done anything illegal. Oh I know you suspect. I know you'd love it to be me, but you have no evidence do you? Not a jot. And I'm hardly going to confess to you – especially as you don't even provide a good coffee for your victim. I've done nothing wrong. I've not even broken the speed limit driving up here. I've paid all my bills; I've looked after my companions. What is the reason you're holding me here? Am I officially on the run?'

Rossi leaned back slightly into his chair. 'You don't fool me Flanders.' He then stood and walked out of the room. It buzzed locked behind him. It was now my turn to be questioned. This time I had Rossi and Hotch asking me exactly what I knew - and what do I say?

'I don't know… really I don't know. Most of what he says is a lie… the other half delusion. I don't know what amongst he's told me is truth and what is just to wind me up and what was paranoia… I really don't know. Yes he told me he'd created a computer programme. Yes I saw something on his computers which could have been something, but really it could have been anything, just a list of numbers. It could have been part of a computer game! I just have no idea. No I don't know where the hard drives are. Yes I did know he'd removed them. They were in the van. If they're gone now I don't know where. They could be anywhere. I didn't see him talk to someone. I didn't see him hand them over. I really don't know. I was under the impression that Floyd picked up on something going wrong when Sam started to behave oddly. I thought that was all it was. He likes to have things in control. He likes to feel that if something goes right or wrong that he's somehow responsible whether he is or not. I know he has computer skills which he will deny but I don't know to what extent. I don't know if he can write computer programmes or if he's just good at social networking. He'll deny that too obviously.' I was talking too quickly. I was panicking. 'I have to trust him Hotch. I have to believe him if he says it wasn't him. If I don't… if I cant… then…'

'You accept that the man is a manipulator. You accept he is a sexual sadist. You accept that he's probably having sex with Sam.'

I nodded stupidly. There's nothing to say. I know all of that.

'Yet you say you have to trust him?'

'I know what he is.' I whisper as I lean forward and place my hands on the table. 'I'm fully aware of what he is. It's everyone else who cant see it. They just cant see beyond the picture they want painted for them. You have past experience of things Floyd has done and now every time something crops up you're going to come racing after him and you're going to accuse him of something. It has to stop Hotch.'

'We all thought it had.' Rossi says. 'The van had nothing incriminating in it. The hotel room didn't either.'

I stand. 'Well if there's nothing then we can leave?'

'I need another word with Flanders first.'

They know I lied.

I felt sick.

I wanted to get out of that stuffy room and kneel in front of a bucket or toilet and let out the ton of popcorn I'd eaten. I wanted to pinch and scratch at my arms and I needed above all else not to let Floyd think I'd betrayed him. He'd probably not hurt me if I did. No… he'd explained that already. If I didn't do what Floyd wanted – If I put one step wrong then it would be Sam living in pain, not me. I shudder as I try to work out at which point Floyd infected Sam. I couldn't think of another way it had happened. I didn't want to think about it though. I wanted to get my man, and Sam, and leave. I wanted to sit in the comfort of the hotel room and watch B movies and laugh at the dreadful acting.

Firstly I needed an excuse to throw up.

I stood at the window again sucking on a mint to get rid of the smell of my vomit breath and listened to Rossi railing at Floyd again. I wanted to run in there and defend him and tell them that they had it all wrong but that was exactly what I couldn't do.

'You're a bully.' Rossi told Floyd as he handed him a coffee.

'Whatever.' Floyd muttered back.

'You manipulate and bully and threaten to get what you want.' Rossi carried on.

'Well I need to start doing something else then cos that's obviously not working. I don't want to be here Dave. I don't want to be sitting here. I want to check up that Sam's OK. I want to run my tongue over Spencer, but that's not happening is it? So you must be wrong and once again I must be right. It's becoming a habit. It makes my skin prickle and my balls tingle Dave.' He sipped on the coffee and smirked.

'You pick on people smaller than you; people unable to defend against you…'

Oh… he used that cutting gesture with his hand. 'Spencer is a trained Fed. He's perfectly able to defend against anything thrown at him. He's not a kid. He's a grown man. Ask him… I really think you should ask him… Has he ever hit me? And I don't mean in self defence. Ask him! Go… go ask him now. I know he's listening. Ask Spencer if he's ever raised his hand to me. Ask if he's ever struck me in temper. You might be shocked at the reply. If he decides to tell the truth. Yes I've slapped him around in the past. I'll not say I've not, but you've never asked where I get my bruises from have you?' He sipped again on the coffee. Rossi remained silent. He was thinking. Wondering. 'Ever wondered why Spencer keeps coming back to me? I'm sure you have. Could it be that it's _me_ who's the easy target?'

I was standing there shaking my head in disbelief. 'This is a typical reaction from someone like that.' Seaver was at my side again.

'You have no idea.' I snapped at her.

'I've read the file.' She replied as though reading a few sheets of paper can possibly explain Floyd.

'He is trying to direct blame to you to cover for his own…'

I find I mirrored Floyd with that cutting gesture. 'Maybe I am to blame.' I hissed. 'Leave me Seaver. Just go away.'

I heard her sigh and then the sound of her footsteps as she wandered back to the coffee machine. Only thing she would ever be good for and honestly she's not that good at making coffee either.

They talked to Sam next. Again I stood and listened. Floyd was back in his own little room with a bacon sandwich and a soda. He had complained that the coffee tasted vile and asked if Feds didn't train their girls to make a better coffee than this.

Sam was told that there was still a place at the college for him. Sam grunted and sighed and paced and then sat down. 'I was taking five degrees. That's shit load you know? I could have gotten them easily too.' Again they told Sam that there was still a place for him at the college. 'Why? What's the point? Why do I need to prove what I can do? That's what this shit is really all about. You cant just say _Hey I know all this shit… give me a job_ cos no one will believe you, so you have to spend years proving you're not a liar. I don't see that I have to prove myself and I don't need no fucking degrees to have the sort of job I want. Pimps don't ask how good you are at fucking quantum mech. They're really not all that interested. And before you start telling me that I could get a job anywhere, yes I've had a few good job offers but you see I'm a fucking heroin addict and I like anal sex regularly and I also belong wholly and fully one hundred percent to Floyd and he loves me as I am, and so in conclusion – I don't need a sodding education and he's not going to try to change who or what I am because this is _all _I am.' He then stood, turned his back on Rossi and mooned him. 'You want some?' Sam asked, but the door closed before Dave could reply and Sam was alone in the room.

'We cant force him back to college.' Dave said to Hotch. 'All we can do is attempt to monitor the situation.

'You mean keep tabs on us.' I said.

'I mean that we all know that Flanders is dangerous. We cant prove he had anything to do with what happened and I don't want to keep asking you the same questions Reid, because I really believe that you don't know what's real anymore than Flanders or Trent do.'

That was that. I'd had enough. They thought I'd lost my mind and yes I thought I had too. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted the smell off me. I wanted a long soak in a tub of bubbly water and I wanted someone to scrub my back for me. We were allowed to leave. There was no reason to hold us here.


	10. Chapter 10

10

Again Floyd seemed subdued. Sam was irritable. I was keeping my head down. I'd heard what he'd said to Rossi. In a way the claim that I'd hit him was a fair one. I had hit him. And I'd meant to hurt him too. I felt he deserved it. He pushed me to it! The damage I received in return though was slightly more than I've delivered.

But:

It was my fault.

I raised my hand to him.

If he raised a hand in return it was in self defence wasn't it?

We got a lift back to the hotel. Sam put the television on far too loud and Floyd pulled on a jacket and stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. 'I need to go get something. Don't wait up.' And he left again. I asked Sam if he was alight to be alone whilst I have a dip in the tub. He offered to scrub my back and for one horrible moment it was almost tempting. He also offered to share the tub with me. I didn't find that quite as tempting though. Sam flopped on the bed and watched motor racing and I let myself slip into a _nowhere_ place in my head and allowed myself to drift… not off to sleep as such, but just to somewhere else. Somewhere where everything was perfect.

Somewhere – and I hate to say this – without Sam.

It's not that I actively dislike him. No… it's because I think maybe I'm jealous. I know. It's pathetic and I'm aware of that, but Floyd has been away for so long. I just want time the two of us to get to know each other again. We've both changed. I don't think it's for the better either. My bath water was cold when I heard Floyd come back. He didn't come in the bathroom so I emptied the tub and started to get dry. I could hear Sam's excited whispers. I could hear the almost conspiratorial tone in Floyd's voice. They were up to something so I swung open the bathroom door thinking I'd catch them at something. Well I did catch them at something. I let out a soft groan and my dislike for Sam increased a notch.

'Spencer.' Floyd was laying back on the bed from the hips upwards. Sam was kneeling at the foot of the bed _thanking_ Floyd for something. 'He had no cash. I took payment in another way.'

I didn't move. I just stood there watching Sam blow my boyfriend. I assumed he was my boyfriend, lover, companion, mate… however you like to say it. I was shaking so much if I'd moved forwards I'd wouldn't have shown how angry I was, my knees would have given way and I'd have ended up on the floor. Not good.

And so I clung a hold of the door frame and watched Sam give me a thumbs up. He didn't move though. Oh no. It didn't stop what he was doing. He must have been very grateful for something. When he moved away and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand he then turned to look at me. 'Hey. You want some?' He moved on his knees towards me and still I couldn't move. I was cemented to the spot just outside the bathroom door. If he'd gotten close enough I would have kicked him out of the way. I was planning it. I had it there in my head ready to do. I could see in my minds eye the way his nose broke and the blood splattered over his face as the heel of my foot made contact. I didn't have to though. It never happened because Floyd grabbed Sam by the hair and spoke.

'You want the stuff I got you, then you don't touch Spence. Ever. Understand?'

Sam sat back on his heels and gave me that cold calculating look. I think he knew I would have done my best to hurt him and I think that was why he moved towards me like that. He wanted to have Floyd hit me in his defence. The little… There are not polite words to describe that creature. 'Floyd got me some stuff.' A sly grin. 'I'll share it. I've a load of needles…'

Floyd went out and as casually as only Floyd could he purchased heroin for Sam.

'Spencer doesn't want your shit Sam. I got it for you not for him. You go sort yourself out. Have some fun… I'm going to snort some of my own lovely powders and I suppose Spence is going to sit and watch some old sci-fi on TV.'

That was his explanation. That was all he felt was necessary. What _I_ wanted was irrelevant. What I did want was to walk from the room as my friends got high and go have a drink in the bar, but I'd never leave the pair of them alone again. They both laid back on their beds and Floyd sniffed up his powders and drifted off with his eyes open looking at things only he could see. Sam prepared himself and with a happy sigh injected his drug into his arm. For a short while I just stood and looked at the pair of them. There was some motor race on the television and the noise was grating on me, but first I walked over and looked down at Floyd and waved a hand in front of his face. I got a slight murmur of a reaction and his fingers twitched but nothing else. I then moved to look at Sam who had his eyes shut and his _dirty_ mouth slightly open.

I shouldn't have done it.

But in a sick way I don't regret it.

Floyd says that he hits out when he's angry or frustrated. He's trying to stop doing that by getting obsessive over floors and dust. Maybe I should have gone to the bathroom and cleaned out the tub.

I didn't though.

I stood with clenched fists staring at the face of the person who was going to – as I was seeing things then – destroy my relationship with Floyd. I took money from Floyd's wallet. I locked the balcony door. I left them.

Not before clouting Sam hard in his mouth with my fist though.

It was wrong! I shouldn't have. I knew that as I walked down the corridor to the bar. I had hit Sam so hard that I had a cut on my knuckle. I've never hit a defenceless person before. I hope I'll never do it again. If I'd stayed in the room I'd have done something to Floyd too and my life wouldn't be worth living. I had to get out and clear my head and the only way I could see to do that was to go to the bar. Even though I knew I shouldn't leave them alone. Even though I should have stayed to ensure they were alright.

It was vile and selfish, but that is what happens when driven to the place Floyd had dragged me to. This time though was going to be different. If he thought that he could use Sam to keep control of me then he'd have to think again. I would love to have been able to say that I cared and that I'd not let Sam get beaten… I would love to have kept my word to myself and been able to say that I'd step between the pair of them, but the way I was feeling when I went to the bar and ordered a large Scotch on the rocks and a packet of cashews wasn't a feeling that I'd protect Sam.

Swirling thoughts in my head.

Ideas.

How to annoy Floyd so that he'd attack that beast.

What could I do to show Floyd that he couldn't control me?

He'd left me for two years.

The person he came back to wasn't the one he'd left. Rossi was right. Floyd was a bully. And as I sat and drank myself into oblivion I thought that this time Floyd had bitten off more than he could chew.

o-o-o

I was expecting Floyd to come and find me, but it wasn't Floyd but Sam who came steaming into the bar snatching my drink out of my hands and shouting at me.

'You son of a bitch! You fucking cunt! How fucking _dare_ you do that! What gives you the right to fucking well hit me like that! Look what you've done you bastard! Just look at the state of my fucking face!'

I indicated that he should sit down and be quiet. People were watching. We'd get thrown out, not only of the bar but out of the hotel. 'You've got a problem?' I think my voice was slightly slurred.

'You're damned right I've got a fucking problem.' He was sitting now, leaning over the small table in the corner and hissing his words at me. I could feel spittle spraying my face. 'You hit me! I might not have been able to defend but I bloody well knew what you did and I damned well felt it.'

I nodded at him. 'Good. It would have been wasted if you'd not felt it.' Now I leaned over the table too. 'You will learn.' I hissed back at him. 'Floyd might have spawned you, but that doesn't mean I have to put up with your sleaze. I wont tolerate it Sam. If you do that to him again I will show you how much I dislike your actions. If you want to get high then you go ahead.' Then I said something I shouldn't have. 'I hope you over dose.' I put it down to the scotch which I think had diluted my senses and turned me into the worst kind of spiteful, resentful, jealous… person. I didn't mean it. I really didn't mean it, but it was too late. Words are hard to take back when said with so much venom. Even when the words are tainted by alcohol.

'You motherfucker. I'm going to tell Floyd what you said.'

I reached over the table now and grasped hold of Sam's shoulder. I wanted to hit him again. I wanted to grab his hair and smack his face on the table. I was so angry I could hardly think… or so drunk I could hardly think! 'Get out. Go back to the room Sam. You're still tripping.'

He peeled my hand away from his shoulder. 'Cunt!' He howled, turned and walked quickly from the bar. I shrugged and slumped back into the padded bench I was sitting on. It was the early hours of the morning when Floyd slipped onto the bench next to me and wrapped a friendly arm around my shoulder. He breathed on the side of my face but said nothing which just made me think that those hands were going to do a lot of hurting very soon. It wouldn't matter to Floyd that we were in a public place. I could feel his fingers digging into the top of my arm and as he just sat there and breathed on me I realised suddenly what was so different about Floyd. His breath had a strong smell of cloves. He didn't have that strong lingering smell of musk and man sweat about him. Slowly, oh very slowly I turned my face to look at him. He raised an eyebrow and licked his lips and then ran a tongue over mine.

'Well.' He whispered into my face. 'That was very unexpected. Care to explain? I really never thought you had it in you, but that's a couple of times you've retaliated against me and now you've given Sam a swollen mouth. He's not very happy.'

I could feel that sudden drink fuelled feeling that I was right about everything and everyone else was wrong. The lights were too bright, the sounds were too loud and I felt I was going to throw up into Floyd's face, but I stayed sitting where I was and I didn't pull back from Floyd. I was feeling unbalanced. I didn't want to slide onto the floor. 'I know that you're not monogamous. I can deal with that Floyd, but not with Sam and not in front of me. I'm not going to stay with you or travel with you if you and _he_ are going to carry on like that under my nose. Why does your breath smell funny? Why don't _you_ smell funny? Send Sam back to college. Let him have his education. Stop buying him dope. I thought you wanted to prove that you could be a good father…'

'Uh hu. Yes… I am being a good father, though I'm not his father, but I get what you're saying. He's clothed and warm and I'm giving him what he wants. What more can a boy of his age want or need? He's not well Spencer. He's got this infection thing…'

Now it's my turn to cut off what Floyd is saying. 'One very good reason why he shouldn't be taking drugs. Another good reason is that Sam is still starving himself. He needs proper care. You are not capable.'

Floyd pulled back a bit now and rested his elbows on the slightly sticky table. 'I'm sorting the eating thing.'

'But you're not! You're doing nothing. You got him one sandwich and when he wouldn't eat it you admitted that you are inclined to poison him on occasion. That's not sorting things! He needs to be in hospital and I don't mean for his infection which by the way he _can_ pass on to you through what he was doing… but he needs to be in therapy. He needs detox, rehab, and guidance and then he needs to be back in college.'

'Well fuck me if you've suddenly become parent of the decade! You surprise me at every turn. I'm going to assume that you've drunk too much because you'd never talk to me with such disrespect normally. You'll put that last drink aside and walk back to the room with me. We can talk between the three of us once you've had some sleep.'

He dragged me from my place and I _saw_ that look on his face. An apologetic look that he gave the barman – He was helping his drunk friend back to his room. What a hero! What a man. We returned to our suite without incident. Sam was sitting with his back to the balcony doors again and looking at me as though I was the dirt he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. We needed to discuss this. We had to sit and talk about it. Really talk about it… our feelings… what we wanted… what we expected… the usual stuff which I guess not enough couples sit down and talk about. But then this wasn't a very normal situation. I sat down on the bed and I suppose I fell asleep. Too much drink. Too much stress. Too many unknowns. My brain shut off for a while. That's good though. There's no point in talking about what we are feeling when all I could feel was a woozy sickness in my head and stomach. When I woke up it was to bright light flowing through the window, the smell of the outdoors… and the noise of Sam watching the motor racing again. Except he wasn't watching it. He was out on the balcony talking to Floyd. I therefore assumed that the noise of the television was just there to annoy me. I went to the bathroom, cleaned my teeth, searched for a razor or a blade and found nothing. I showered… did all the usual things and when I exited the room again Floyd was still out on the balcony with Sam. They were both smoking. I could smell the stink from the cheroots as it wafted in with the slight breeze. I made my decision there as I stood looking at them that I was going home. I would book a ticket on a train and just get out of this stupid situation while I still had the chance. I didn't have any money though, but Floyd's wallet was laying there on the bed so I just took a wad of the cash he had stuffed in there and put it in my pocket then went and stuffed the few things I had in a bag and stood by the door wondering if he'd even notice. I saw his hand drift to Sam's butt and I saw the way he seemed to stroke what he found. I turned. I'd had enough. I had my hand on the door handle when Floyd spoke.

'And there I was thinking that we were going to have a talk. Sort the mess out. You're planning on running away though. I _told_ you what I'd do to you if you left. Leaving me wasn't one of your options. How fucking short is your memory Spencer?'

My hand froze and then dropped to my side. Slowly I turned to face him. 'OK. I'm listening. Tell me what it is you want to tell me and then let me go. I'm not going to kowtow to you Floyd. Not any longer. You don't need me. You've got Sam. Someone who will bend and beg and plead with you all you want. That's not me any more. So get it all off your chest Floyd. Tell me why you want me with you. Tell me what your master plan is because you just seem sad and lost to me. I was only with you before because of the adrenaline rush, oh and you looked good on my arm… but look at you. Who in their right mind would want to be seen with you? But it's not really you who's the problem. It's Sam.' There I've said my mind.

He scratched at his neck and took a few steps forward, coughed into his fist and then looked at me with his head cocked slightly to one side. 'I came back to you.'

Was that it? Was that his answer? I shook my head and turned to leave again.

'If you touch that door handle I'm going to have to get medieval on your arse Spencer. You don't walk out on me. I told you what would happen if you did. What's going on in your head? I've been trying. I've been good to you. As good as I can be. I've tried. I've hardly beaten you much very often recently this week or last week much either so what's the fucking problem with you? Why are you trying to force my hand like you did back at the computer room? What is it you want so much? It's not the sex is it Spencer? Your sick mind needs something else doesn't it? How have you survived for two years without me to provide for you? What have you been doing instead to get that rush? White water rafting? Parachute jumping… base jumping… skiing? Fuck… what is it that gives you that rush?'

I would have loved to have taken a step back but my back was against the door. I let the bag I had in my hand drop to the floor and I looked at Floyd in the eyes. 'You give me that rush.' I told him truthfully. 'You make that knot form in my stomach…'

'OK. So that's sorted out. Now what's your problem with Sam? He just needs help. He needs support from people who love him.'

'Love him?' I asked with a laugh in my voice. 'You want me to _love_ him? Floyd you are bonkers if you think that all the time he's behaving as he is and _you_ are allowing it that I am even going to get close to liking him. He's a monster. A vile selfish monster. Give me a reason to like him.'

'He's not a thief though. He's never taken anything from me.'

The money in my pocket started to feel soiled and heavy. 'I would have returned it.' I pulled the money from my pocket and stepped to the bed and placed it there.

'I know you would have, like you'll replace the cash you took yesterday when you thought I was too far out of it to know; the way you hit Sam when he was unable to defend. And I was called a bully. Fucking hell Spencer! You used to be the person who kept my mind in balance. I could have used you to ensure that I stayed right… but not now. A damned thief and…' He turned to look at Sam. 'I still cant believe you did that. Anyway it's beside the point isn't it? You're not leaving me. Sam's not leaving me. You're going to stay here with me and you're going to fucking well enjoy yourself. What do I have to do to make you realise that you don't have a damned choice? I thought we'd talked about this. I thought we'd gone through the options. Why are you defying me?'

'And why are you picking on me!' Sam added.

Floyd told Sam to get out. He told him to take some money off the bed and go and buy himself something nice to eat. Something he can eat and not worry about. Maybe a lettuce or something. He protested lightly, but it was obvious that Sam was only too glad to get out and be free for a while.

'He'll sell his arse.' Floyd muttered when the door slammed shut. 'Then I'll get a call from the cops. He's ensured that I cant get high but that doesn't much protect you does it?'

I was always under the impression that Floyd didn't own a pair of wings but he was on me so fast that I can only assume he could fly. I was on my back on the bed with Floyd sitting across my hips before I knew what was happening. I think, but I'm not sure that he head-butted me. Everything went painful and dark for a while and when my eyes opened again he was still sitting there across me but he'd used something to tie my hands to the bed somehow. 'I wanted to avoid this.' He groaned at me. 'I wanted you to want me for who I am.' He wriggled a bit across my groin. 'I wanted Sam to think that you did what you were told. I thought it would be a good lesson for him, but you've _pissed me off_!' His voice rose to a shout as fingers started to unbutton my shirt. 'I thought you'd be a good role model for him as I'm obviously so shit at caring for him – as you pointed out to me. So here we are, back how we always where. My personality upgrade in fucking shatters. You're staying. You're going to fucking well stay with me and you'll never think of leaving me again or I'm going to get so fucking angry with you that I'm going to hang you off the fucking balcony by your balls. Do you understand me Spencer?' I pulled at the bindings as an answer. 'We _are_ going to go to the mountains. We _are_ going to go fishing and cook over campfires. We _are_ going to fucking well enjoy ourselves. And I will do what I want with Sam because he's mine to do with what I damned well want.' This time I nodded slowly.

'I still think that Sam needs help.' I whispered. 'I think he needs to get an education.'

Floyd shook his head this time. 'No he doesn't need a fucking education. What's your education done for you? With or without you'd still be mine, you'd still be tied to this bed, and you'd still be stinking of lust – you dirty lover.'

It was then that it happened. Whatever Floyd had been doing to hold it back all this time was suddenly released in one eye-watering overpowering waft of – well I can only describe it as _Floyd's Smell_. My nose started to run and I couldn't wipe it. My eyes poured with water and all doubts and anger and feeling of resentment or jealousy or whatever it had been was suddenly gone. I reacted in exactly the way he knew I would. I begged. I pleaded… I wriggled under him. I needed him so badly that I had a horrible feeling that he'd not get my pants down in time! I'd not felt such overwhelming need and sexual… _lust_ for so long that I could see sparks of light bursting in front of my eyes and a foggy grey creeping around the edges of my vision. I was going to pass out! I tried to take deep breaths. I no longer really knew what Floyd was doing but he was sure doing something and I needed to howl and scream at him to stop what it was.

It was going to kill me!

I knew it.

Whatever it was, was just going to be too much for me to cope with.

This…

This is why I stick with Floyd.

I could now feel him pushing me and dragging me into position. His hands seemed to be everywhere at the same time… his mouth was biting and sucking and licking over my chest and biting down hard on my collar bone – (a somewhat magical place which he knew would make me buck and arch my back). He knew my body better than he knew his own; I'm sure of it. I'm also sure that this time the pleasure was mine rather than his. He pulled me back to him so easily that the reason I was going to leave seemed stupid and childish. He untied my hands and rolled me onto my side and lay behind me just holding tight. I was bleeding, in pain, sore, shaking, sweating and finding it hard to draw my breaths. The thumping of my heart – the power and the speed of it… I still wondered if I was going to survive.

I was still laying there feeling safe and maybe even loved when the phone on the nightstand rang. I was for ignoring it but when it cut off after about ten rings it just started right up again.

'If I don't answer it someone will come knocking on the door.' Floyd muttered. 'Fucking hate phones. They're one of the most intrusive things ever invented.' He leaned over me and snatched the phone from the cradle. 'Flanders.' He snapped. He then listened for a while and sighed. 'I'll be there as soon as I can.' He slammed the phone down and flopped back onto the bed. 'Well it seems Hotchner is still in town. Keeping his beady eye out on what we're up to. Sam's been arrested. I need to get down the cop shop. You can stay here or come with me.' He kissed the back of my neck and then slid off the bed. 'Or have a shower and join me later? I need to change my clothes first though. Ten minutes wont hurt Sam. Hurry babes.'

And everything was forgiven.

I'm a fool I know.

You cant base a relationship on one good turn on a bed, but…

I have my reasons.

I know Floyd. I know he's a better person than he'd like to make it look. I know. I can smell him on my skin. I can smell him on the few clothes I have left on. I don't want to wash it off, but he's running the shower now and telling me to get a move on. Sam needs us.

'He needs to see us as one. He needs to see that we are not fighting. A cohesive unit.'

I don't know if he's talking about Sam or Hotch now. I go have my shower and when I come out Floyd had put on his black bootleg cut jeans, a white collarless shirt and a black waistcoat. Did he tell me to worry when he put on his waistcoat? He looks divine.


	11. Chapter 11

11

'He approached a car at an intersection. He offered himself for cash. The driver left as soon as his way was clear and reported the incident. We sent out an unmarked car and pulled up at the same intersection…'

'Stop… just stop a minute.' Floyd was talking to the police officer who was in charge of the _situation._ 'What's this got to do with the feds? How the fuck can prostituting yourself be a federal crime? Why are there feds here nosing their way in? This is a one off incident. He's not been arrested for this before and maybe you need to see to the curb crawlers who entice pretty young men into their cars, vans and trucks. Can this be classed as entrapment?'

'It's not a federal case. The gentlemen you're talking about just happened to be in town.'

'Nosy motherfuckers. They're harassing me. I can get some kind of an injunction out on them. How much was Sam offering his services for? And what exactly was he offering. He's not well. Not been himself. He's on medication.'

'Medication for what?'

'He's syphilitic.' Floyd told him. 'But that doesn't answer my other questions… or does it? Now can I take Sam home with me please? He shouldn't have been wondering the streets. I was occupied and he slipped out when I wasn't paying attention. I give my word officer that it wont happen again. He's just a poor mixed up kid. You ask Hotchner. Ask him if Sam's not been in hospital not just for STDs but for mental illness too. He wasn't hurting anyone.'

They want to know how old Sam is. They are saying that he looks young. Floyd is claiming that Sam is twenty-one and even produces an ID card to confirm his age. It has to be a forgery but the police officer accepts it and passes it back

'He looks far younger than that.' Maybe a hint of suspicion in his voice.

'He has a rare genetic syndrome which stunts both physical and emotional growth. He's really extraordinary once you get to know him though. A true miracle of nature. He just needs careful handling. He was at college doing well until the illness caught up with him again. I thought I'd take him and my partner here…' He gestures to me. '…on holiday… a vacation as you'd put it. In the mountains. Fresh air… nothing to tempt either of them… no street drugs or whores to tempt either of them. I seem to attract people with rather loose moral standards.' He gave me a sharp side long look. 'So if you'll just let me take Sam back to the hotel and allow us to settle in again…'

'He has track marks.' The officer said. 'He's got a social worker with him now. Sometimes when some one is struggling emotionally it's better to talk to a neutral person. That Hotchner wanted to talk to him but Trent wouldn't let him near him.'

'Afraid he'll take him back with him and put him back in school. Sam doesn't need Hotchner's help. He's an interfering old shit. I'd rather he was kept away from Sam. He's already tried to lure Spencer away with the offers of jobs and vacations in Miami and Mexico and shit…'

I managed to get in what I needed to say when Floyd paused. 'I am a Federal Agent.' I spoke with a calm I wasn't feeling. 'I work with Agent Hotchner, but I don't think that now is the best time for me to be talking to him. I am on leave. I'm meant to be going on vacation. Fishing… camping…'

'They let queers become Feds?' The police officer sounded genuinely shocked.

I didn't react to this… I didn't know if he meant it to be insulting or if he was just speaking his mind, but I decided that then was the best time to leave. I told Floyd that I would wait outside and I asked him to remain calm. He gave me a tight nod and a small careful smile and turned his attention back to the officer.

Hotch was outside sitting on a bench in the weak sunshine. He looked up at me with an expression which didn't fill me with great happiness. I walked slowly over to him and stood at the side of the bench. Hotch gestured for me to sit down but the hard surface didn't look like it was going to be all that comfortable. I was really remarkably sore and would have rather been laying on my front on a bed having lotions rubbed in. 'You don't need to do this.' I tell Hotch.

'I'm looking out for you.'

'It feels like you're stalking me Hotch. I need some space. Are you going to follow me all the way into the mountains?'

'Sit…' He asks but I shake my head and do some careful pacing instead. 'I need to know you're safe.' Hotch stood and grabbed my arm as I walked past. 'I need to know that this is what you want. That this is your choice. I need you to know that I'm here for you Spencer. Last time he was messing around with your head you fell apart. I can see it happening again. I don't want to lose you. Not as a team member… I mean as a friend, as a person. I don't want to have to investigate your death at the hands of Flanders.' He had me by both shoulders by now and was gently pulling me in towards him.

'Hotch.' I rested my forehead on his shoulder. 'I need to do this. I've not been coerced. I want to do this.'

'Do you trust him?'

His hands were moving. One was on my back and one on the back of my shoulder. 'I love him Hotch.'

'That wasn't the question. Answer me honestly Spencer. Did he have anything to do with the suicides? Do you trust him?'

I wanted to pull away.

I wanted to stay there forever.

I had to move. I had to move before Floyd came out. He would know anyway, but I still didn't want him to see what might look like an embrace even though my arms were just down at my side. I was too close. Much too close. 'Let me go.' Now I moved my hands to his shoulders. 'Just let me go.'

Hotch moved his hands away from me. He knew what I meant. He knew I was going up to the mountains never to return. He knew that before I knew it. He probably knew it long before Floyd knew it.

'Go home Hotch. Go back to work. When I can I'll contact you, but you know how it is.' The urge to pull him into the shadows at the corner of the police building and give him a kiss goodbye was almost over powering. I quickly turned my back on him and walked back up the three steps into the police building. I assume he left. He didn't try to stop me. He let me go. My confused mind was crying out for him to come and drag me away and keep me safe, but it was also screaming at me to get back to Floyd again. I had a couple of days' growth of facial hair. I needed to get a razor. I'd have to once again ask Floyd for some funds to go and get something. He liked me to be clean shaven. It occurred to me that a full body waxing might get Floyd to look at me rather than at Sam's inhumanly smooth skin. I turned at the top of the steps and looked to where Hotch had been. He was gone now. My last chance to escape and I'd sent him away. I rubbed at my eyes with my fingertips and walked back into the police station just as Sam and Floyd were signing things at the desk. Some distant hope that they'd lock Sam up was gone now too.

The three of us walked back to the hotel. Sam made us stop on the way at a clothing store. He was demanding more clothes. He wanted to choose them himself. I don't blame him. He only had the one pair of jeans and a shirt and some sandals. No underwear and nothing to change in to. Whilst they wandered around the clothing racks I asked about shaving. Floyd mumbled under his breath but nodded. I was give a few notes and told to go get an electric shaver. My argument that I wouldn't be able to recharge it in the mountains was matched with his offer to shave me which his _really_ sharp little skinning knife. Was there a point in arguing? No… no there wasn't. I left them to rummage in the shop and walked two stores down and got a good quality shaver, few cheap razors and a pack of disposable lighters. If I got abandoned in the mountains I wanted to at least be able to light a fire. I then stood outside the clothing store and waited. I don't know if Floyd saw me standing there or if would have come out anyway, but he was there standing next to me with a fresh cheroot in his hand.

'He will learn. If I'd stayed in there I would have gotten blood over the stock. Fucking stupid little shit's going to go hiking in the fucking mountains dressed like a slag. No point in telling him otherwise. He's such a stubborn fuck.'

'Well I wonder where he gets that trait from?' I smiled at Floyd. 'I know he's not officially or biologically your son, but you would make a good dad you know? Once you get over the need to have sex with him and show him how to skin people.'

'Oh you're so lucky we're in a public place or I'd have you now against this window.'

'No you wouldn't. I'm still sore. You're going to have to give me a few days.'

'Days? A few?' He looked through the window at Sam who was piling things up on the counter. 'Just… you know?'

I knew. 'Cant you abstain just for a few days? For me?'

'I very much doubt that, Spencer. Not when I cant let you out of my sight for ten minutes and you end up stinking of Hotchner. Did you put your hands down his pants?' He suddenly had that tone to his voice which would normally mean that blood would soon follow. He grasped my hands in his, lifted them to his face and inhaled deeply. 'I cant remember what Aaron's cock smells like.' He told me. I tried to pull my hands away but he was having none of it. 'You want me to keep my hands off Sam but you don't keep your hands of Hotchner? How does that work?' He let go of my hands and walked back into the shop without another word.

'It's hardly the same thing.' I whispered. He heard me. I saw the way his stride changed. I saw him look back over his shoulder and draw his thumb over his neck. My _idyll_ of lying on a bed having my butt massaged wasn't going to happen.

When we got back to the hotel room, Sam was sent out and locked on the balcony. Floyd then showed me what happens when he suspects that I've been messing around.

'I know my threat was to pulverise Sam if you pissed me off but as you have no care for him that's not going to work is it.' He was saying this as I was quickly backing off towards the bathroom. 'Locking yourself in there wont save you Spencer. It'll just encourage me to give you a bog wash. Now stand still and let me explain to you in a way you will understand why you don't mess with me.'

I didn't stop. I kept going until my back was to the door of the bathroom. I knew there was no escape in there, but maybe it would have been easier to clean up the blood afterwards. 'I was just talking to him Floyd. I told him to go and leave me alone.'

'After you gave him a goodbye feel.'

'You're paranoid! I'm meant to put up with you doing whatever it is you do with Sam but I'm not allowed to talk to my friend?'

He poked me hard in the stomach. 'You're not allowed to have friends!' He spat back at me. 'I'm all you need. You don't need anything else. Are you saying I'm not adequate? Are you implying that I don't satisfy you? Is that your dirty problem? You're so greedy that you need to go elsewhere? On the other hand you're not as good as you used to be. You don't really get me going like you might have a few years back… I need more. Sam gives me that little bit extra. I don't know if it's because he knows those little tricks – tricks you might do well learning – or if it's because he doesn't care what I do when I'm not with him. He's not a spiteful, jealous, nasty, little fag!'

I'm the spiteful one? 'I've known Hotch a long time…'

'Long enough for you to know that if you touch him I will beat the living shit out of you. I can even smell him on your face… how? Did you kiss the mighty Agent Aaron Hotchner? Did you skulk with him in the shadows and slip your long slim fingers over his body? Answer me Spencer! Tell me what you did to him!'

'I talked.' I can see that Sam is doing something out on the balcony but I try not to let him distract me.

'You _talked_? So how do you stink of him? You don't smell of people just because you've talked to them. Why are you lying to me?' A fist started the real work of reminding me why I shouldn't talk to Hotchner; even more so why I shouldn't let him hold me. Fists worked on my stomach and a knee on the groin. You see this so many times. Someone gets kneed in the groin, they bend forwards to relieve the agony and a fist or knee takes them in the face or under the chin. I felt the pain… I felt my head snap back and crack on the door. I think in some kind of disjointed way I felt the boots kicking around my ribs. I was expecting him to kick me into last year, but he suddenly stopped. He could have been doing anything from rolling a smoke, snorting powders, masturbating, or getting a drink. I didn't know which. I didn't want to look and find out. My best bet for now was to stay curled up on the floor in front of the door and keep quiet. It's not easy when it feels as though your internal organs have just been ruptured. My nose was running and my eyes pouring water, but I wasn't going to give Floyd the satisfaction of letting him see exactly how much pain he'd caused. Let him go play with Sam. Right then I didn't care. When his hand gently touched my shoulder I let out a small noise from somewhere deep down inside of me and jumped.

'Hush. We've got a problem. You're the big problem solver. Go do your job.' The hand then shook me slightly. 'Now would be a good time.'

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He looked concerned crouched down next to me, but the worry wasn't for me. Floyd gestured towards the balcony. 'What's wrong?' I sighed at him.

'Sam's on the balcony; threatening to jump.'

What did he want me to do about it? I didn't think I would be able to walk let alone have the patience to go talk to Sam, and why would I care anyway? I did look though, and though my vision was foggy I could see that he wasn't just on the balcony but had climbed onto the rail and was balanced there.

'Go talk to him.' Floyd insisted and started to pull on my arm to get me to stand. 'His balance is good.' Floyd let me know.

'A shame his mental balance isn't as amazing.' I pushed Floyd's hand away from me and sat up groggily. 'Has he said why he wants to jump?'

Floyd shook his head and then shrugged. 'I've not asked. You go talk to him. He'll just jump out of spite if I do it.'

I crawled to where the balcony doors were slightly open and rubbed at my eyes again. 'Sam?' I spoke quietly. The very last thing I wanted to do was to startle him and make him fall. 'What's going on?' I wiped at my nose with the back of my hand and saw a smear of blood. I didn't think that right now I was the best person to talk Sam out of whatever it was he thought he was going to do.

Sam was in a crouch and it made my stomach heave as he turned on the small rail he was balanced on and turned to face me. 'What do you think is going on? I'm going to kill myself.'

I looked at what he was wearing. He was still in the jeans and shirt Floyd had bought him. I glanced at the bags of goodies Floyd had got for him and smiled inwardly. 'You're going to jump?' He nodded a bit too vigorously. It made him wobble alarmingly. 'Dressed like that? Why don't you wear one of the new outfits Floyd got for you? You surely don't want to end your life dressed in something he chose for you, do you?'

'What does it matter what I'm wearing. I'll just be a splat on the concrete.' But he was looking at the bag of things now.

'You wont. You'll probably break your neck or even your back, but we're not so high up that it will be a certain death and I think there are flower beds down there. You'll just cripple yourself. People will see you laying there broken in the dirt. You'll probably lose control of your bladder. It'll be a nasty mess but I don't think it will kill you. You'll know that you're dressed like that. What a shame. No one will ever see you dressed in your great new stuff. People who spend their lives in hospital with machines to breathe for them usually don't wear clubbing gear.'

I could see that look cross his face. He couldn't see from where he was now if I was telling the truth about the flower beds, and I really didn't know either. I did know that a drop from here up on floor six would kill him. If I failed… if Sam jumped – or fell – and died… or was broken beyond repair it would be my fault. Just like the deaths of those students was my fault. I would be to blame. Floyd would never forgive me.

'Just come down off there before you break your neck and try on some of your new stuff. You can give us a show.' I hated this. I hated talking to him like this; like I cared and like I actually liked him. He did slip of though, back onto the balcony and pushed by me and walked to his shopping bags. Floyd let out a sigh of relief and grinned.

'This doesn't mean I wont kill myself later. But you were right. I need to think more carefully about what I want to be wearing. I'll also pick out something I want to be buried in.'

Floyd ran a finger over the top of my head but spoke to Sam. 'I'll have you cremated boy. No nice comfortable burial for you. And if we're not in a city were we can do it legally then I'll just spit roast your annoying little hide. A big spike right up your devious arse. You'd love it.' Floyd then closed and locked the balcony doors. 'I think tomorrow we should set out again. I'll pick up more pills for you and we'll start to head north again.' Sam muttered something about not wanting to go to the mountains. Floyd shouted something very much like… 'Well Spencer _does_ and after he just saved your life I think we shall do what he wants for a change.' I don't want to go to the mountains. I really don't. I didn't argue with him though. To the mountains we would go. Floyd had made up his mind and there was no changing it. That was the first time Sam did something like that. It was not the last.


	12. Chapter 12

12

I'll not go into the full minute by minute details of the next few days of the trip. It was mostly taken up by Sam's constant complaints about everything and Floyd filling the cab with cheroot smoke. Some nights we slept in small motel rooms where Floyd on one night attempted to force Sam to eat noodles. I tried telling Floyd that it wouldn't work, but he insisted. Sam ate the noodles. The next few hours were taken up by Sam puking up noodles on every surface he could find.

I recharged the shaver when I could. I noted though that Floyd seemed to be growing a moustache. I commented on it and he said he fancied a change. It looks good on him though. I've no complaints. I don't know if he was expecting any. Sam didn't mention it that I knew of. Floyd was keeping Sam close for the first week after the balcony incident. He was trying to get Sam to eat. Sam was still refusing. He was drinking though and seemed quite happy to sip on tomato soup. Floyd wanted me to talk to Sam about eating. It wasn't my place to. I was finding it hard enough my self. It didn't occur to me that was why Floyd was asking me to talk to Sam. Floyd knew I was throwing up most of my meals most of the time… (if I could find somewhere private to do so). Food sat heavy in my stomach. Floyd on the other hand seemed to be eating enough for all three of us. He kept on his jeans, shirt and waistcoat and he washed his hair at some point that month too. Things were looking up. Since that day in the hotel the violence was at a level which I didn't think would kill me. I had the occasional split lip and then a bruise under my eye. Most days I got a backhanded slap across the face for one indiscretion or another causing a nose bleed. On the couple of days when I woke up and didn't feel like I'd been hit by a bus it actually felt odd. I could almost say that I missed that feeling where my teeth had cut into my inner lip or cheek. I missed the taste of blood in my mouth. At first I missed it and wondered exactly what it was that felt different. Why did my coffee taste strange? Why didn't it give that bite of pain when I drank it? Why was my tongue not bitten and sore… Then I realised it had been a couple of days since he'd raised a hard hand to me. Things were improving. I was talking to Sam more. I was attempting for us to find a common ground. He even came rushing into the small dusty room we were staying in one day with a grin on his face claiming that he had the best joke in the world to tell me. I asked to hear it, but his face then fell and he shook his head.

'It's a quantum mech joke.'

'I might still understand it.' I smiled at him.

'You don't understand jokes though. You've got some sort of brain problem. Don't worry.' And he skulked back outside again.

It was a start though.

Floyd seemed to be almost overly careful of the attention he gave either of us to the point that by the time we had left what looked to be like the last signs of civilization he was ignoring us both. Sam's attention seeking behaviour though increased and gradually Floyd began to bow to his demands. Really I'd never seen someone have this effect on Floyd and the longer the three of us were together the more I was of the thought that Sam should be on a locked ward in a hospital. If it wasn't Sam's actions which caused us both alarm (Floyd more than me) it was the way he was dressing. He was provocative and dressed in the most odd clothes I'd ever seen. He had a liking for very tight vinyl shorts, long sleeved mesh top, transparent jackets and chunky boots. As we entered the second week after we'd left Hotch behind he started wearing makeup… just a little silver eye shadow, but who was he doing this for? Floyd was laughing at him, I was reviled by him and there was no one else here.

This particular day it was raining. We'd been up in the forest roads for two days and Floyd was taking back routes to goodness only knew where. He seemed to know where he was going, but he often gave the impression that he knew what he was doing when in actuality he didn't have a clue. This was one of those occasions. The juddering jumpy ride over rutted lanes and side roads and also the sound of the rain and the gentle whoosh, whoosh of the wipers enabled me to fall asleep for part of the day. It was when the van stopped that I woke up. Sam was scrunched up leaning on me and Floyd was just sitting staring out of the window. There was the normal fog of cheroot smoke in the cab, but Floyd had opened his window slightly. It was still daylight. I could see the encroaching forest around us and the rain hammering down on the windscreen. I leaned forward to see past Sam properly and ask Floyd what was wrong.

'Well... I last put fuel in here two days ago. I actually thought we'd run out sooner, but good fortune at least brought us this far. I figure tonight we can stay in the van and tomorrow we can start the real adventure.' His voice sounded flat and he looked tired.

'It's raining.' Nothing like stating the obvious when you don't know what to say. I really didn't want to be stuck out here. I especially didn't want to go hiking in the rain. _Real Adventure_? I couldn't even request that he turned around. 'Do you know where we are? You said about caves?'

'I said about caves. I know where we are. No where near the caves. They're maybe a month or so away by foot. Prepare to get soggy. I know I'm rather marvellous but I cant control the weather. We can get in the back of the van and eat the rations we have and snuggle up and share warmth.' Still his voice sounded flat and _wrong_.

'Where are we? Do you have a map? Are we close to a village or town?'

'No map. No villages. I thought that was the point of this excursion. Getting away from everything. Getting to know each other. Living by the law of the land and such. Where are we? We are here!' He gestured out of the window. 'It's called _The Forest_.'

I looked out of the window and then down at the canvas high tops I was wearing and sighed. Either way we were going to have to walk now – either back to the nearest shelter or onwards and hope to come across somewhere to stay dry in. Floyd slung open the van door and told me to wake up Sam and get round into the back. He told me that we might as well spend the daylight sorting out what we were going to take with us. I wanted to tell him that though the idea of seeing the caves had been interesting in the beginning, knowing that we were going to be walking for a month to get to them didn't fill me with too much joy. If it had been nice weather, had we been alone… just to two of us, but in the rain with Sam? If I had a cell phone I think I would have just walked back in the direction we'd come from and kept walking until I could put out some kind of message for Hotch to come and rescue me from this disaster. It was like the worst case scenario for a team bonding trip.

I gave Sam a small shake and as a result got bitten on the arm. He was more animal than human and those teeth of his broke the skin! I let out a yelp and Sam howled abuse and spat at me in the face. I wondered if I'd need a tetanus shot and if it was more humane just to put the rabid creature down.

'We need to go to the back of the van.' I snapped at him. 'We're out of fuel and you're going to get wet. Put your plastic mac on.' He had his sandals on. They'd get wrecked. I didn't care. I ignored his cries that I should carry him and slipped out of the van and round the back to where Floyd was rummaging through his bag. 'He bit me.' I showed Floyd my arm. 'Do we have a first aid kit in here?'

Floyd's sour mood seemed to have lifted slightly. I don't know if he was happy that Sam had drawn blood or if he was more happy that he'd located another bottle of wine. It doesn't matter. He sat me down and wiped at the bite with antiseptic wipes and put a dressing on. He'd just finished when Sam, who looked very wet and angry started to climb into the back. He didn't get all the way in though. Floyd's booted foot caught Sam square in the face sending him flying back into the mud with a squelch and a squeal.

'You never _ever_ bite Spencer again! Are you a fucking animal? What the hell is wrong with you Sam?'

'He was touching me up!' Sam screamed his lie from where he was laying in the mud.

'Don't you fucking lie to me you little shit! You can bloody well stay out there tonight for that!' Floyd pulled the van doors shut and we sat side by side in the gloom.

I wanted to feel happy that Sam was out there in the slowly darkening day in the pouring rain, but even though I despised him wholly I felt sorry for him. 'You cant leave him out there. He might hurt himself.'

Floyd sighed. 'He wont. He'll crawl under the van. But he'll kick the doors first and try to get back into the cab. He'll make a big fuss. He'll make threats, but if I'm not there to witness it, and if you don't give a shit then he's not going to do anything. You'll see. Tomorrow he'll be contrite and he'll ask for forgiveness.'

'He'll get ill. It's cold out there.'

'Well he should have thought about that maybe last week when he started to really fucking bug the hell out of me. I should have sent him back to the college. I should have handed him over to Hotch. I should have washed my hands of the little bastard, but I feel sort of responsible you know? I don't want to let him down. I want him to know I care about him. He has no one else Spencer. He has no real family but you and I. I know what it's like to feel there is no one.'

'Oh stop with the sob story Floyd. It wont wash. You don't have friends because you cant control more than one person at a time. You cant have more than one friend. You'd end up killing them because they dare do something like chew gum or have a drink with someone of the wrong gender. You're having a hard time controlling Sam and me aren't you?'

He placed a cold hand on the side of my face. 'It's doing my fucking head in Spencer. If one of you is behaving the other is being a problem. Why cant you just get on with him? Show him some support. Be nice to him. He's having a hard time… he's out of his comfort zone. He's a city boy really even though he was raised in the wilds. He wouldn't survive out here on his own. Be nice.'

I didn't point out that it wasn't me who was biting and spitting and making accusations… it wasn't me kicking him in the face. I thought really all things considered that I _was_ being nice! The hammering on the van lasted for about two hours. I never realised that Sam had that much energy. The shouting only lasted half an hour or so. I was ready all that time to swing open the doors and let him in but Floyd insisted on leaving him out there. He said he'd never learn to behave if he didn't take his punishment. I felt at the lumps and bruises on my face and ribs and quietly agreed with him. I also decided that if Sam did something like that to me again that I'd say nothing to Floyd. More fool me probably. But I didn't like being the cause of this horrendous noise echoing around the van. We spent the night huddled together. We touched, we teased, but that was all. I think we were both feeling a bit too guilty about poor downtrodden Sam by that point to get really much in the mood for anything else.

The following day the rain had slowed but not stopped. Sam was called in and he sat in a sodden sulky lump and sipped on water. I used the electric razor and Floyd and I nibbled on some of the rations we had left. There wasn't much though and nothing which would give us the energy for a long wet hike through the forest. Floyd had a long waxed coat with a hood. I had a waterproof thing which would keep most of the wet off as long as it didn't get _too_ wet. Sam had a see through plastic mac with _Barbie_ emblazoned across the back of it. Floyd told him to put something else on… but Sam refused. He was also wearing a pair of very short shorts in black with a red frill across his butt and a pair of pink Wellington boots. His top was a tiny capped sleeved thing with the word _Bitch_ in glitter across the front.

We each had a bag to carry. Sam's was pink, mine black, Floyd's was brown leather and seemed to hold his whole word. I stood there and looked at Sam and Floyd and those bags on their backs held everything they owned. I at least had an apartment and things there I could go back to. Floyd had nothing but what he could carry… unless those packing crates back at the house actually had things in them that he cared about, and as he'd initially said he was going to burn the house down I doubted that. I had something to go back to. I had another life I could maybe try to pick up again. Maybe with some help Sam did too, but for Floyd this _was_ his life. This is what he wanted. The open air. The smells of the forest. Once it had just been me he wanted. Now maybe he needs more. Maybe I'm not good enough for him and he's only with me out of habit? Maybe that's why I'm with him?

We trudged in silence through the light rain. Most of the time it felt as though we were going slightly up hill; occasionally it was downwards and as the day got longer and my stomach in particular began to rumble and growl we waded uncomfortably through dips which were slowly filling up with water.

If I had thought that Floyd would find us somewhere dry for the night I was wrong. If I'd thought he'd find us something to eat I was also wrong. My stomach continued to growl and Sam sat in absolute silence. He had a big bruise on the side of this face where Floyd had kicked him. We sat in a triangle of mistrust and maybe even hatred and stared at the ground. Rain ran down my neck and tickled its way along my spine inside my waterproofs. My feet were sodden. My hair dripping even though I'd had a hood on. My legs from my ankles to my knees were so wet that my cords were stick to the skin. I ached. I was sore. I was hungry, thirsty and miserable, yet this was Floyd's big adventure. We were meant to be bonding and getting to know each other. Trying to tolerate each other at least. Floyd smoked and shielded his cheroot under his hand. Sam requested a fire and Floyd told him to go get some dry wood and he'd make one. Sam looked around at the rain drenched forest and his shoulders slumped.

'Can I tell you something?' Sam muttered. 'It's not important really. It's not going to effect anything but I thought you should know.'

Floyd gave him a gesture to carry on. I continued to look at the puddle forming in front of me.

'I went clubbing last summer and I was all up for having some fun… getting drink or high and going back to someone's place. But it was a dull night cos it was hot and people had gone out doing other stuff. I was sitting alone in the shadows and some bloke comes over to me and asks if I'm alone. I told him I was and told him how much it'd cost. He turned and walked away. Well a week later I was at a bar and he was there again and again he came over to me and asked if I was alone and I told him that my price hadn't gone down just because we were not at the club and this time he sat next to me and he said he didn't want some back room romp… he wanted to talk and get to know me. Well I got to know him pretty well. We actually dated for a while. We went to the movies and clubbing and walks in the fucking park and we had a day out on a boat. You know what I liked about him?' Floyd and I both shook our heads. 'Well you see he accepted me for me… he didn't try to change who I was. He just accepted me totally. His name was Greah. Weird name. He was tall and fair. He had freckles.'

'What's this got to do with anything? You had a beau for a while. So what?'

Sam shook his head. 'The point is that we talked. I got to know Greah and he got to know me. He worked in an office. Boring job. I was at college. We were nothing alike except we both had dicks and arses and both liked having fun with them. But… the point is that we talked about everything and anything.'

'So where is Greah now?' I asked Sam.

'Dead. He killed himself. He stepped under a train. At first I didn't care. But now I think I _do_ care. I think I might have loved him a bit and I hate the pair of you because you judge and laugh at me.'

'You must have made him very happy Sam if he jumped in front of a train.' Floyd stated.

Sam stood. 'You see? That's why I hate you so much. You think it's funny. It's not bloody funny! He'd have given me anything if I'd asked. I just never asked him. He wanted to marry me! Can you believe that? Someone liked me enough to want to commit the rest of his life to me and what did I do? I told him to fuck off. I told him to go away… and the next day he was dead.'

'Liar.' Floyd hissed. 'That's not what happened. If you're going to tell us a fucking sob story tell the damned truth.'

'I gave him and STD. I'd told him I wasn't cheating on him cos I wasn't as such. It was a job.'

'So he was going to commit his life to you and you went off and sold your arse to some diseased fuck and passed it on to the man who loved you? That's nice Sam. That's really nice. What did you give him?'

Sam walked in a circle and then sat down again. 'Doesn't matter what I gave him. He's gone now, but that's not important either… what I was trying to say was how good it is getting to know someone just by talking.'

Floyd nodded. 'Why do you think we are here? That's the whole damned point of this. Spencer… any love confessions you want to get off your chest? Any dark secrets which could assist in our mutual bonding?'

I shook my head and poked at the wet place in front of me. 'No. I'm not permitted a personal life. As you well know.'

'So nothing going on between you and that new bitch on the team?'

I looked up suddenly and heard my neck crack alarmingly. 'Seaver! By the gods no! Never! Not ever! Not even if she was to become a man. Never.'

Floyd let out a snort of a laugh and the three of us fell again into silence. Floyd finally mumbled. 'Fucking weather.' And that was the end of our confessions for the night.

I laid on the soggy ground, but another surprise happened when Floyd squished over to me, unwrapped his waxed coat and pulled me onto his lap. He didn't say anything. Sam said nothing, but I did eventually somehow manage to sleep. It was still raining when I woke up at first light. As Sam and I pulled our bags back on over our shoulders Floyd wandered off and returned with what I thought at first was two fists full of mud. It turned out to be a tuber or root of some kind about an inch thick with dirt. I scraped off what I could and nibbled the revolting thing only because I was so hungry right then I would have eaten it if it _had_ just been a fist full of mud. Sam sucked some water off some leaves and then we trudged on wards again in the rain. My feet hurt. I had blisters where my wet shoes had rubbed on my skin. I was chaffing where my clothes were wet and my hands were so cold I could hardly feel them. I dared not complain though. Sam wasn't, for some reason complaining and I didn't feel it wise to start if Sam could keep his mouth shut for half a day.

I got scratched. I hit my head on low branches. I tripped and ripped the knee out of my cords… Sam ripped his plastic mac on brambles and constantly lost his boot. The ground though not too muddy, as we seemed to be the only live creatures, was wet and slippery. The second night Floyd found us a tree to sit under. Not that it make much of a difference. I was trying to stay – at least on the surface – happy. I was attempting to appear to keep calm and not shout my annoyance that my clothes were now stuck to my skin and where I'd been walking in wet clothes my skin was rough and blistered. I took my canvas boot off and found that my heel and toes were bleeding. The first aid kit – Floyd informed me – was back in the van. Wonderful news.

Sam muttered a couple of times that Greah would never have put him through his agony and when were we going to reach where we were going?

I remembered Floyd saying that it'd take a month to reach the caves and I seriously hoped that there was somewhere slightly nearer than that he was aiming for. There were some berries which Sam actually nibbled slightly on. He's been falling over his own feet all day and I think that by then Sam could see that he was going to have to eat or drop dead and be spit roasted. Not that there was much left of him by then to nibble on if it had come to that. I snuggled again with Floyd that night. I could feel his hot breath on the side of my face and I could feel his hands holding me tight. I asked him if we were lost and he told me that we couldn't possibly be lost if he'd not known where the hell we were in the first place. He also said that as long as we keep going north then we will reach something eventually.

'Going north for a day, then going east the next… then south and then west… now that's when you end up walking in fucking circles. We are going north. It's going to be fine. There'll be somewhere eventually. You just have to trust me.'

I coughed. I sneezed. I was shivering but again he'd left few options. I could sneak away in the night and do what he said – walk in circles – or I could trust that he'd keep us all alive. And oddly that was one thing I was very sure of. He'd not put himself through this discomfort just to see us die. And yes I knew that he was having discomfort. I saw him remove his boots and rub at his feet. I saw his expression when he sat in the wet undergrowth. Floyd was a long way from happy, but wasn't about to admit it. When I woke up Sam was huddled with us too. I could feel he was shivering and his skin was cold. He still had on the plastic mac though it was ripped to shreds now. His legs were covered in scratches as were his arms and he had a nasty mark on the side of his face. Sam's toes were blistered and had been bleeding the same as mine. I wondered if Floyd's were too.

Floyd jumped into action that morning. It had stopped raining for now which put a spring into his step. He could after all now smoke easier. We found a fresh puddle to drink from and Floyd found more roots which he managed to wash today. Even Sam ate something again. Things were looking up. There was no way to make a fire though. Even if it didn't rain all day everything was water logged and the ground was still slimy and slippery. I slipped to my knees trying to make my way down a small incline and ended up on my butt sliding down rather quickly. My jacket and shirt rode up and mud, stones, tree roots and anything else that was there, scraped over my bare skin. I yelled out in shock and surprise and ended up sitting at Floyd's feet. He patted me on the head and smiled.

'You know something?' He asked me. I shook my head. 'I think you need to get knee pads.' He then put a hand out for mind. 'Come on.'

I got to my feet and felt Sam grip my other arm. 'I'll help.' He offered. And though I didn't want Sam's help I did feel that things were slowly changing. Was Floyd's plan to place us together in this mess for this purpose? Maybe it was working. What amazed me though was that Sam could run down slopes and even climb trees and race along a tree branch and not fall, but he tripped over his own feet constantly if walking on a level.

It was late afternoon and the three of us stood at the top of another incline. This one was different though. It was about twenty foot in length and I'm sure Sam could have given an accurate angle. About 45 degrees. Not impossible in the slightest. Under normal circumstances. At the bottom of the slope was a dirt ridge and then what appeared to be a proper road. Sam squealed in delight. I grinned and Floyd sighed.

'We can follow the road and get shelter at least. It has to be going somewhere.' Sam pointed out.

'The idea was to survive out here though.' Floyd sighed again.

'But one night under cover would be nice. We can dry our clothes… eat something not covered in dirt. Something warm maybe. As Sam said, it has to be going somewhere.'

Floyd nodded. 'You're really miserable aren't you? I don't mean that in a snarky way. I mean you're just not having fun. Fine, we'll find shelter. Dry out, but only if you give your word that we'll carry on.' Sam and I both agreed.


	13. Chapter 13

13

Sam went down first. I followed quickly behind him, watching where he was putting his feet. Floyd was to my side. Everything seemed to happen at the same time. Sam was a few feet from the bottom when he jumped onto the dirt ridge and disappeared. Floyd let out a howl and leapt forward catching his foot on something and going head first onto the road. I just slipped sideways in my panic to stop myself going wherever it was Sam had gone and ended up in a deep wet darkness with something wriggling and struggling under me. It was apparently, now I was lying in it, a mud filled ditch. I held my breath and got to my knees. Still couldn't get my head up and above the level of the watery mud. Sam was grabbing at me and pulling me back down again in his panic to get out. I pushed him away. I wanted to tell him to calm down, not to panic, just to stand… but my mouth was still under the level. I had to force his hands off my arms and slowly kick him aside so that I could get to my feet, which I managed at last. I was chest deep in muck. Deep breaths and a lot of coughing later I turned to find Sam who'd not reappeared. I was also calling for Floyd who I'd seen fall but hadn't really noticed exactly what happened to him. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and leaned down feeling around for Sam. I felt his hand, a boot, a bit of plastic, they all slid away from me. I had a feeling he was on his back right down at the bottom. I stood again… deep breath… scream for Floyd… ducked back down again. A boot came away in my hand this time. I threw it to the side and felt again… grabbed some of his plastic mac which just ripped away in my hands again. Then finally fingers. I had his hand… and I dragged him up out of the mud. If I looked as comical as Sam did when he finally appeared then I would have laughed at me, but no one laughs at Sam when he's not looking his best. He managed somehow to wrap his arms and legs around me and push me against the side of the ditch. He opened his mouth and screamed blue murder. I'd never heard a scream so blood curdling before. At least not at that point… Later… that was for later. I stood there and wrapped my own arms around Sam and we took deep breaths together and tried to calm down slightly.

'Oh my fucking god! Buried alive. That's the worst. I thought it was being burnt alive but I've just realised that buried alive is worse. Fucking hell Spencer. You saved my life. Thank you.' Then just a wild cry of distress and his limbs tightened.

I called for Floyd again and still there was no reply. He must have heard Sam's screams and cries. He must have. 'Sam. You need to get down. It's Ok… I'm not going to leave you. Hold onto the back of my jacket. We need to climb out of here. I don't know where Floyd is.'

Sam responded by holding on tighter and pushing me back harder onto the bank. 'Please no… for the gods no… don't make me let go. Please Spencer. Please don't. I'll die of fright if I have to go down there again. I will die again. I thought I was dead. I thought that was it. I could feel you grabbing for me and I couldn't scream. I was dying. Please don't let go… don't make me.'

I understood his fear. Now if this had been a child I might have been able to deal with it better, but Sam slipped from being an angry teen, to being a sensible adult, then right back to an almost preteen state. I held him tighter though. 'Sam we cant stay here. I'll tell you what we will do. You are good with balance right? You're magnificent! I've never seen anything so amazing.' First play on his ego. 'What you need to do is use me. Climb up and over me and then out onto the road. Then either find Floyd or lay down and give me a helping hand out. How does that sound. Think you're good enough to manage?'

'Fuck yeah I can do that. What if I cant get you out through?'

'I'm sure with our two genius brains we can think of something. Go now before the chill sets in and your hands and feet go numb.'

He was so light that I could hardly feel his weight and though that was good, I didn't know how on earth he was going to help me out. There was above my head another couple of feet before the top of the ditch. How this had looked like an earth ridge I don't know. It must have been the late afternoon light. I felt his foot on the top of my head and then he was gone.

'Oh… oh shit.'

'Sam? What's wrong?'

'Floyd's sort of broken his head. He's not going to be helping today.' Then his face appeared over the edge of the ditch. 'There's lots of broken branches. There must have been a storm or something. What I'll do is drop some into the ditch and you can scrabble up them.'

Sounds easy.

I'm not the most wondrous when it comes to obstacle courses though and I doubted I'd be able to just _scrabble _out again.

It took a while and oddly Sam did help and the fact that his _was_ helping was maybe even more alarming. He wasn't helping because he wanted me out of the ditch but because he wanted me to help Floyd who it seemed, once I was over the lip of the ditch and partly laying on the road, to be laying in a splodge of blood.

PART TWO

ANOTHER VIEW

Spencer and Sam were covered head to foot in a layer of slimy mud. Floyd was less muddy but was laying in the middle of the road not moving. The two moved in and crouched down next to him.

'Floyd?' Spencer's voice sounded nervous. Scared maybe? 'Move something.' Spencer's muddy shaking hands moved to the white bit of skin showing above Floyd's collar. He could feel a pulse. At least he hoped so. Spencer's hands moved carefully over the side of Floyd's face. 'You hit your head. It's going to be fine. Just going to check your neck is OK. Can you move your fingers?' Spencer turned to Sam. 'Take his boots off. I need to see if he's moving his toes. Quickly Sam.'

Sam crawled to the foot end of Floyd and pulled off the muddy boots and set them carefully to the side. 'Is he dead?' Sam looked at the toes which seemed to be an odd blue colour.

'Why would I need to know if he could move his feet if he was dead? Run a finger nail over the bottom of his foot.' Spencer told him. 'Gently. We don't need more blood.' There was though a twitch of movement from Floyd's toes.

'I think he's just knocked himself out. That was a heck of a fall.' Spencer sighed as his fingers continued to check on Floyd's neck. 'His neck seems OK so I'm going to turn him over.' Spencer leaned in to Floyd's ear. 'Going to move you OK? It might hurt.'

They huddled together getting their mud on Floyd and inspecting each other's wounds while Floyd made odd mumbling noises and flailed out occasionally with a hand. He didn't make contact with anything though. Maybe the bonding was working after all. Maybe. It even crossed Spencer's mind that he'd purposefully done this to force Sam and himself to work together. It was a daft idea but that didn't stop that thought from gaining hold and settling there in the back of Spencer's mind. Maybe the van hadn't even run out of gas. Spencer hadn't checked. He was meant to be trusting Floyd… how _could_ he have checked? Sam still had his backpack on. Floyd still had his. Spencer's had been ripped off during the fall and was on the other side of the ditch.

'I'll pop over there tomorrow and get it.' Sam said. 'I don't want to go now. It's getting dark. I don't want to slip.'

Again this surprised Spencer. Sam was actually thinking of someone other than himself. Spencer was wondering if he'd been too harsh on him, but then got a flash of memory of Sam sitting watching him and Floyd and resumed his previous feelings for him. He watched in the moonlight as Sam pulled the things out of his backpack and wrung the water out of his precious garments. He made the odd whimpering sound as he held up something which looked small enough for a five year old child to wear.

'Some of this stuff is totally wrecked.' He moaned. 'And I've lost my wellies. I'll have to wear sandals. I've got blisters on my blisters. When are we going to find somewhere safe? Wait… shush… did you hear that?' Sam put down the thing he was holding and stood up. 'I heard something. Like someone walking in the woods. Again! Did you hear it?'

Spencer shook his head. 'Maybe an animal Sam. Sit down and relax.'

'I cant relax. Look at him! He's going to die! How are we going to survive out here on our own? What the fuck are we going to do Spencer?'

Reid held tightly onto Floyd hoping that very soon he's awaken and know the way out of here, but as the night dragged on Floyd only made a couple of muttered sounds and moved his fingers a few times. Spencer got Sam to rub at Floyd's feet which Sam protested at initially. 'His feet are filthy.' Sam whined, but he still sat with his mud covered legs crossed and pulled Floyd's feet to his lap. 'And they stink.' He added. They sat there in the darkness both holding on tight to Floyd and both needing desperately that he'd wake up again. Sam didn't complain that he was mud drenched. Spencer didn't show his dislike (fear) of the dark. They sat in silence and listened out for any sounds around them. Sam was still sure that he'd heard someone walking around out there, but there was no sign of anyone now.

'Someone dug that ditch.' Sam muttered as the light started to come up through the trees. It was a dull grey light and didn't offer any hope that they'd get their clothes dry. 'Someone dug it and they were watching out in the forest all night.' Sam licked his lips. 'I can almost taste the smell of whoever that was.'

'You can smell the mud we fell in.' Spencer told Sam. 'I'm going to try to get Floyd to wake up and have a look at what he's done now we can see. Is there any chance of getting my pack?'

Sam slipped Floyd's boots back on again and sat looking at his grubby hands. 'We will die if you cant wake him up. We cant find shit out here the pair of us. What the fuck are we going to do? Is he dead? What are we going to do if he dies? Should we eat him? Bury him?'

'He's going to wake up.' Spencer snapped back at Sam. 'Are you going to see if you can get my bag for me? I'll try to get Floyd up on his feet and then we can carry on.'

Sam threw large stones over the ditch they'd fallen in the day before. He judged the distance and jumped it easily. He snagged up Reid's bag and lobbed it back over again. 'If I fall will you come get me again? Will you? Spencer?'

'Of course I will. You wont fall.' Spencer moved away from Floyd who had still not woken up and crouched at the edge of the ditch. 'I'll catch if it looks like you'll slip. But you wont. I've seen how fantastic you are at this sort of thing. You really are amazing. I don't know how you _could_ slip and fall.' Giving Sam some praise always worked wonders. Sam was back standing on the road looking smug in a flash. Spencer suggested trying to find something to eat. Floyd had drunk a little water, or at least it appeared that he'd drunk some, but they had no food. Sam questioned Spencer's ability to find a twig to gnaw on and Sam was probably correct. Reid wasn't sure. Floyd always provided. Spencer then suggested that they made something to lay Floyd on and drag him. Sam wanted to know what good that would do trying to haul him through the forest.

'As you can clearly see the going is not easy. Look what it's done to my mac. I'm in shreds. It wont work.'

'We are on a road.' Spencer pointed out.

'The road is going roughly East – West and Floyd said to go North.' Sam gesticulated. 'He warned us about walking in circles. He said that. He said to keep going North. We have to go North. We need to. It's what he said to do!'

Reid shook his head though. 'This changes things Sam. We will walk East for now and see where this road takes us. I'd really like to find a village and get some help. Floyd needs medical attention somewhere. We wont find that in the forest. We have to do this.' Sam was shaking his head wildly. 'If it was me he'd see that I got help.' Spencer reasoned. 'So I'm going to get some for Floyd.'

'He'd not! He wouldn't. He might get help for me, but he'd not for you. You're nothing! You're just some creep he likes to look at. I'm the one who matters not you! He's mine!' Sam snatched up a fist sized rock from the side of the small road and it looked like he was going to throw it at Reid.

'Fine… you're right. He'd leave me. He would make sure you were OK though. He's proved that already by taking you to the hospital when you were ill. You know that. He postponed the trip until he was sure you were better. Now isn't the time to forget that. We need to… _You_ need to get him somewhere at least dry. He's soaked to the skin. We all are.'

So it was decided. Whilst they were arguing Floyd had managed to get to his knees, but that was the best he could do. Spencer was worried about that far away look Floyd had in his eyes and was equally worried about the blood seeping out of his left ear. Talking to him didn't have any effect and even though Sam shouted and stamped feet and prodded Floyd as he spoke they got nothing from him other than a small groan. Once again it was argued that they needed to go North and once again Spencer over ruled Sam. He reminded Sam that he'd heard someone in the forest last night.

'Are you sure you want to go wandering through there knowing there's someone out there waiting?' Spencer now tried to frighten Sam into doing what he wanted to do. Walking through the forest with Floyd a gibbering lump wasn't Spencer's idea of an adventure. It was more like a nightmare.

'But you said there wasn't anyone there.' Sam's spoke with narrowed eyes.

'Well maybe there was. Maybe there wasn't. Help me and Floyd can try to walk, but we _will_ use the road.'

That was decided. The road was very obviously not used anymore or at least hadn't been for a long time. Firstly Sam pointed out that there was no road kill, then they came across a small tree which had fallen across the road. They couldn't move it and had to drag a moaning (and now it seemed Floyd could bitch like a trooper) over the tree. Sam and Spencer talked about the percentage chance of finding somewhere close by which was inhabited and came up with a very low number which they both unhappily agreed with. Spencer and Sam had one of Floyd's arms over each shoulder but the difference in height was making the going both slow and painful for Spencer who was having to walk slightly bent, and for Sam who was finding the constant jerking on his neck painful. At mid-day they stopped for a much needed rest. It hadn't rained but the air was cold and damp. They were cold and damp and miserable. Floyd was still incoherent. Sam suggested that they offered Floyd some of his powders but Spencer wanted to be somewhere more secure first. The small cough he had a couple of days ago had picked up a bit now but it was still impossible to find anything dry enough to burn. Late afternoon there was another tree over the road and it was there that they camped down for the night. Reid had noted that for the past couple of hours there were signs that people had been here. Sam had said nothing and not wanting to alarm him Spencer said nothing. He'd seen though wrapped around a small tree, some barbed wire and now as Sam snuggled up protectively with Floyd Spencer fished out a small flashlight and wandered over to the side of the road where he thought he'd seen something yellow from between the trees. Here the forest was virtually growing on the road. The ditch they'd fallen in had gotten shallower as they walked and was now just a foot or so deep.

_NO ENTRY. TRESPESERS WILL BE SHOT._

Well it was a warning. A warning that they were going in the wrong direction, but as Sam hadn't seen it and as it was obviously very old and seemed to be saying to keep out of the forest, Spencer decided that he'd not mention it. It did mean though that maybe there was something up ahead. Even if it was an abandoned farmhouse or rangers hut… anything… just shelter and somewhere they could get dry would be good. Spencer's feet no longer hurt, they'd lost all feeling when they first dragged a bitching Floyd over the tree. Again they snuggled together trying to suck warmth out of each other as they sat there sniffing, coughing, and shivering. Spencer and Sam talked about sitting guard – just in case – but Floyd muttered something about not sleeping. 'Go sleep. I'm awake.' He could hardly be heard behind his chattering teeth, yet they were words and words which both understood and that was enough comfort for Sam to slip straight into a happy sleep and enough for Spencer to eventually be dragged into a short fitful sleep full of demons and nightmares. When Reid awoke Sam was laying on the road drinking from a puddle and Floyd had his arms protectively around Spencer. 'You had a bad dream.' He explained and that was the last bit of sense he spoke that day. The fall had completely rattled Floyd's brain and though he was walking again he had to be guided and his eyes still had that horrible far off look to them.


	14. Chapter 14

14

For Floyd's part he knew that they were walking in the wrong direction and he wanted to tell them to get off the road and keep going North. This was the wrong way. He could sense danger but his mind was so full of his own demons that he couldn't vocalise his demand to get away from the road. Floyd could smell it. He could taste it in the air and when he was able to see properly again and when he was able to lash out and speak and shake people and bang some heads together he would. For now he had to leave Spencer as the _adult in charge_ and just hope that he took note of any warning signs. Floyd did try once to explain that they were walking into danger but his words came out as a low keening sound and it wasn't really a sound Floyd liked to make. He didn't want their sympathy. He wanted to be in charge of a situation which now he was able to think about it was a totally ridiculous one. They were all going to die and it would be his fault.

No… it would be Spencer's fault.

Floyd would refuse to take blame for this balls up as much as he'd refuse to take the blame for anything.

'Feet.' He managed to whisper at around mid-day, but Spencer and Sam were again moaning at each other about eating.

Neither of them heard Floyd.

Floyd didn't like to be ignored. If he was going to be dragged into the pits of hell by these two morons he would at least like to have a foot rub first. It seemed he was going to be unlucky though.

'You need to try to eat something.' Spencer was saying.

'I don't want to. I don't trust that you can eat that thing and not get a vile gut ache. I don't know if it will get me high… Spencer… in my pack I have some stuff. Can we stay here for the rest of the day and night and let me have something? I'm sure if I shoot up I'll feel better. It's a good idea huh? I'll be all sprightly and full of whoo hoo in the morning. What do you think?'

Spencer gave Sam a very hard look. 'So you don't think you heard someone in the forest? You don't think someone is following us? You think this is a safe place for you to get off your face? You will have to wait.'

'And who died and put you in charge of what I can and cant do? You're not my dad – or my mum – I don't have to listen to you.' Sam whined back.

'Now you will listen to me Sam.' He waited for Sam to stop picking his nose and look his way. 'I've stopped you from dying a nasty death two times now. I could have left you in that ditch but for some reason I felt obliged to save you – at risk to my own life – and you will do what I ask. Up ahead somewhere is a dry place. It might not be warm, but it will be dry and we can find something to burn. When Floyd is well again and when we have dry clothes and we know we are safe then you may ask Floyd if you can _shoot up_, until then you'll do what I tell you.'

'You're not my fucking parent. You cant order me around. We are equals.'

Spencer didn't much want to be Sam's equal, but he didn't want to fall into a childish argument with him over it. 'The sooner we get to our feet again and start walking the sooner we will find where this road is leading us to.'

Floyd groaned and Spencer ran a finger down the side of his face.

Sam felt a swell of jealousy. Floyd was his. He was Floyd's. Spencer was getting in the way. Sam sat and wondered how he could get Spencer far out of the way. He plotted and plan executions, torture, terrible accidents, disease… He decided on the latter. Disease would be easiest. All he had to do first was to pass one on to Spencer and that might be the hard part. Floyd would stop him. Sam then spent a considerable amount of time trying to work out how to stop Floyd from preventing him from doing foul deeds to Spencer and the only way he could think of was to accidentally hit him very hard over the head with a mallet – or a large rock. They walked again with Floyd getting more and more awkward as they helped him walk, but half dragged him down the road. He could walk fine for a while and then his legs would give out and he'd be on his face again, or he would start to walk off in what Spencer and Sam both thought was a random direction.

It wasn't random.

It was North.

It was away from the danger Spencer and Sam were pulling him into.

He attempted to kill them both once, but it wasn't that easy when he was once again on his front half draped over a bit of tree. He attempted to open his mind up and zap a message through to Sam and Spencer but it just gave him a nose bleed and he thought it made the crotch of his jeans get suddenly warm. He decided that due to the high risk of his companions finding out that he'd just pissed himself he'd not try that again. At least his own stink and the rain… which was falling hard again now… covered up that accident.

The following day after yet another restless night Spencer was very happy to see that Floyd was walking in a straight line again. He was still horribly silent though and also that weird look in his eyes hadn't gone. Physically Floyd seemed fine. The bleeding from his ear had long stopped and there was only an occasional nose bleed, but mentally Floyd still didn't seem to be with it. At around mid-day, sitting under the shelter of a tree, they nibbled mushrooms and grass and licked water off leaves.

'A very long time ago.' Floyd suddenly burst out. It was like he'd been holding the words there for a week and had only just managed to find a way to say them. 'Oh… hundreds of years back now, I was a fighting man. I was a captain in a great army. Well actually it wasn't that great. We were decimated but not through my fault. Thousands of men were killed that day.' Floyd reached out and touched Spencer on the hand. 'Buckets of intestines and brains splattered over me. It's good I don't make friends. Thousands of men were lost, but not one of them I cared a simple shit about. It was the most incredible experience. It rained for a week whilst we held position. There was camp fever carrying off men faster than you could blink. Living in your own shit for so long causes disease. We lost half of the army before we came to the decision to attack the small tower which guarded the road to the city. The enemy were holding up within the tower and in the grounds of the place. They had three times the men we did, and those men didn't have breaches full of green shit and minds on the verge of insanity. The great battle was obviously lost. As said… brains and intestines… limbs ripped away by cannon fire. Dozens of men ripped apart with one shot. I had a horse. I kept back. I was partially in charge of this shit. It was fucking hopeless. I sat and watched the massacre for a couple of hours, slipped from my horse, and retreated at a run. I ran for a week you know? Not through fear. It wasn't fear. It was a complete feeling of hopelessness. There was nothing. I couldn't go back because I'd be hung for desertion. I couldn't return to my family… I didn't have one. I had no friends to offer me largess. I could do nothing but keep running. I ran out of energy in the end and lay under a big old tree and curled up and really didn't give a fuck what happened next. I was still in my fancy fucking uniform. I had no idea if I was in friendly or enemy territory. Not that it would have made a difference as I was enemy to both now. I fell asleep. I woke up because the wind was blowing… the rain bucketing down, and apples were falling on my head. At least I had something to eat though huh?'

'Fucking liar.' Sam replied. 'You've never been a fucking soldier.'

Floyd cuffed Sam gently. 'Yes I have sweetpea… and one day you will be too. Just make sure you fight on the winning team. If you don't know who's going to win… then you need to run.'

'Why are you telling us this now Floyd?' Spencer gripped hold of Floyd's hand.

'Ah…' He shuffled his position and rubbed at his eyes. 'Well it's much like now you see? Except now is better because there are at least two of us.'

'There are three of us.' Sam corrected. 'And it's not the same because we're not at war or running from anything. We're just wet and cold and even I have to admit that I'm feeling hungry.'

'Only partially correct Sam. You two OK whilst I take a nap? Stay on guard. We really don't know whose territory we are intruding upon here and I don't want to wake up tied to the back of a horse and spend my next fifty years locked in a cell sitting in my own shit. Once in a life time is enough however long your life ends up being. Stay aware.' Floyd then slipped sideways and fell into a deep sleep.

'Well what the fuck was he talking about? He's never been in a war and he couldn't have gotten bits on him if he was sitting on a horse. He's a fucking liar and just trying to scare the crap out of us.' Sam muttered indignantly.

Spencer wasn't so sure.

Actually Spencer was very aware that they were probably in what could be called enemy territory, but didn't think right now was the time to point out that he had a feeling that in a very round about way Floyd was telling them they'd made a big error in judgement by walking down the road. Too late now though. It was too far to go back to where they'd found the road and it was unknown where to road led to in either direction. Spencer thus decided for the three of them that they'd stay where they were for the night and in the morning carry on. There was no war. No battle. Nothing but that one warning sign and a few bits of old rusty barbed wire which Sam still hadn't noted even though there had been a few trees displaying it. Obviously though it had been there a long time and the trees had started to grow over the metal and absorb it into the tree it self.

Floyd fell into a deep brooding silence again the following day; a day which promised rain and much more rain. Sam wanted to stay and make camp where we were, but Spencer wanted to keep walking. He could feel that they were close to something. He was hoping for an abandoned farmhouse or even a barn, a small shed, a wall with a lean-to? Anything to keep the rain off. The three of them stumbled forwards again. Floyd could mostly walk unaided now, but he again kept walking off the road and was tripping over his feet. Spencer actually wondered if Floyd could see. That look deep in his eyes hadn't changed. He wanted to ask Floyd, but didn't want Sam to hear. If there was a problem it was one he didn't want to bother Sam with. The relationship between them was tense at the best and that morning Spencer had seen that Sam had found a sharp stick and had been scratching at his inner arms with it. He would have told him to stop, but Spencer knew well that it wasn't that easy. He had his own scratches and scars on his own arms to prove that much.

'Sam.' Spencer tried to lift Sam's flagging spirits. 'When we've found somewhere and when we're dry and safe…'

Sam nodded at Spencer. 'I don't think that's going to happen though is it? We died when we fell in that ditch and Floyd died when he hit his head. If we go back again to that place where we found the road we'll find Floyd's rotten corpse laying in the road, half eaten by wild animals and pygmies and we will be lost forever covered in mud. We're still there Spencer. I can feel it. I can feel this horrible tightness in my chest. Sometimes I cant breathe properly it's so tight… like a metal band around my ribs. I cough and I cough and I spit out mud. We are still there. This is just a miserable journey we are having to take to get us into hell. There's no hope.'

Spencer could see that defeated look on Sam's face. 'You really believe that?'

'Of course I do. This isn't really us. Even Floyd knew that. He said there were two of us here. Which one of us isn't real? It must be you Spencer because you're of that other place. Floyd and I belong here and you don't. So really if you think about it you're just here to annoy me because this is my own version of absolute hell. How else can you explain it? I want a bed. I want to be in a room with mirrors on the ceiling.' Sam stopped and grabbed at Spencer's free hand; the other was holding Floyd's. 'I want mirrors on the ceiling and I want red walls and drapes. I want a dark red carpet and I want to be naked and warm. I want to feel safe and loved and I want to see my refection and that will do me forever seeing that perfect form laying on that perfect bed feeling wanted.'

'You are wanted.' Spencer said. It was only part true. Spencer himself didn't want Sam.

Sam let go of Spencer's hand and started to walk away. 'Not by anyone who doesn't want to pimp my arse out I'm not.' Which was maybe true. 'The only person who likes me for what I really am is myself. I know I look fantastic when given the chance. I know I can be liked and I know once I was even loved. Fucking hate this place Spencer. When can we go home again? I want to go back. I want to go to college and have a time table to keep to and know when my papers need to be given in by. I want to see that look on the tutors face when my work is so much better than he could have done.. I want to see the look on people's faces when they see my text books and the miles of notes I have in tiny writing in the margins. I want to feel like people look at me and look beyond the external and see what's inside. But having said that… the external is pretty amazing too.' Sam walked around a slight bend in the road as he talked about himself and what he wanted. 'Oh fucking fuck… what the fuck is that?'

o-o-o

The three of them stood in the road and looked at the thing which the road led to. Firstly a fence of wire mesh with rolls of razor wire looped around the top which must have stood at a good twenty foot high. There was a gate and the road continued on through it. From here they could see that the gate was held closed by a thick chain. A yellow notice, very much battered and weathered had been attached to the gate.

Beyond was a building.

'What the hell is it? It looks like an abandoned prison.' Sam muttered.

'It's hell.' Floyd groaned.

'Shelter.' Spencer added. 'It's very obviously abandoned.'

They walked slowly forwards. 'Even when presented with a way out, the foolish will walk right through the gates of hell.' Floyd commented.

Sam rattled on the gate. The chain wasn't so tight that someone couldn't slip in through the gap, but it would have stopped people going through more than one at a time. Sam slipped through and jumped up and down in his sandals. 'Well I didn't instantly burst into flames so it's not an old monastery and nor is it hell. Come on you two.'

The building was, by the look of it a large upended U shape. The two sides were two storeys high and the end of the building had an extra bit of height to it. There were small windows with no glass, broken in doorways, and doors still closed and very rotten. To Spencer it still had that ancient prison feel to it, though why it would be out here in the middle of nowhere he didn't know. To Sam it felt like a five star hotel. He ran down the middle of the road whooping with excitement, convinced that Floyd was bringing them here all along and hoping above hope that this used to be an insane asylum and spooky things were still going to be found inside of it. But maybe not too spooky… and maybe he'd wait for the others to catch up before finding out. To Floyd it felt as though they'd just committed the biggest mistakes of their lives and walked right into the slaughter house with _kill me, I'm a fucking idiot_ tattooed on his forehead.

'We cant stay here.' Floyd mumbled, but his voice was lost under Sam's screams and yells of happiness.

'A door! Come on! Hurry up! We can finally get out of the fucking rain!'

Spencer felt Floyd's hand tighten in his. 'Oh Spence babes. Be careful. Be so very careful. We're not alone.' Spencer put it down to paranoia. 'If anything happens to me, get Sam out.' Floyd stopped walking and pulled Spencer round to face him. 'I'm having a little bit of a problem keeping both visual and mental focus. I cracked my head a bit damned hard. You know I can get shot in the head and it not do this sort of damage and it's kind of concerning me a bit. Why aren't I healing?'

Reid didn't know the answers. 'Are your glasses in the backpack?' Floyd nodded. 'Then once we're in side and we've checked it's safe and the floors aren't about to collapse under us I'll find them for you. You're badly concussed. I know the feeling very well. Your ear was bleeding. It'll settle, but you have to get in out of the rain and get those wet clothes off. You need to relax and take some of your powders and things will look better. I'll not let anything happen to either of you. Trust me Floyd. I'm a Fed. I know how to look after myself.'

'A Fed.' His hand tightened in Spencer's again. 'And I repeat. There are more than two of us now. When the armies come raging in and when I'm taken for not standing there… standing there and dying with my men… then you'll go. You'll take Sam and you'll run North. Always either North forever or South forever. We are off the track Spence. Stuff always grabs hold and drags you in when you go off the track. They _will_ come for me. The ghosts of the past either in person or just here.' Floyd put a finger to the side of his head. 'Either way, same result. Much death Spencer. So much. I can taste it. It's sliding down the back of my throat and trying to strangle me from the inside. But I'll protect you. I'll stand with you and I will protect you. If I fail… if I turn my coat… promise me you'll take Sam and go.'

'Turn your coat to who? There's no one here.'

Floyd started to walk forwards again but Spencer was no very afraid that the man who was meant to be leading this great adventure had totally lost his mind and paranoia or delusions… or maybe a psychosis had taken hold of his sanity and ripped it to shreds.

Dark openings in the old red brickwork stood looking at them almost menacingly; trying to entice them to their doom. Sam stood by a pair of big double doors with peeling white paint but he'd not entered yet. He was hopping from one foot to the next gesturing at Floyd and Spencer to get a move on.

'It's dry in here! Holy Hannah! Fuck a dog… dry!' Sam squealed in delight.

'You might have to hog tie him.' Floyd whispered to Spencer. 'Don't let him wander off. If we are going to die we will die together OK?'

'Fine, but we're not going to die Floyd. This place is long abandoned. Maybe over fifty years… there's no sign of life.'

'Of course there's no fucking sign of life. They're not alive are they? Come on. Let's get inside before Sam pisses himself on the doorstep.'

The room was huge and square. There was a fire place at the back wall and a mess of broken chairs and tables in the corner. Other doors led off to the sides and a wooden staircase went up to the next floor. Sam ran to the fireplace and then to the broken chairs and tables and began dragging things back. Floyd stood and looked up at the balcony looking down at them. He shielded his eyes and frowned at it and then frowned at Sam and then grinned at Spencer. 'Well at least we can dry off I suppose. Maybe I was wrong and there's nothing here. I was expecting heads on spikes and bodies in cages. Perhaps we're just in the wrong room.'

'Forever the one to cheer the place up aren't you?' Spencer mumbled. 'Why cant you just accept that you're grumpy because you smacked your head and got a headache and that we found somewhere dry without your help?'

'I don't have a headache.' Floyd snapped back irritably as he pulled off his wet coat and tossed it to the side. 'And we have shelter and maybe even a fire to light but no food.'

Floyd had a good point there, but Spencer was prepared to forgo food that night in exchange for dry clothes. Everything was wet. Even the clothes in their bags were soaked. Sam lit a fire with the bits of wood and then stripped off and laid his things in front of the big fireplace to dry. Floyd was more reluctant to strip and decided to just dry something and then get changed when there was something to put on. Spencer would have loved to have done what Sam had, but he was very disinclined to strip off until they knew exactly what this place was. He placed things over the back of rickety broken chairs and stood them in front of the fire, Floyd did likewise and then they sat and watched the flames.

'They will see the smoke.' Floyd commented. 'They will see it and come for us.' He pulled off his boots and rubbed at his toes. 'And we will have to fight our way out. I wont be taken Spence. Don't let that happen. Yet if it does and if the worst happens and you cant get me back, you have to leave and go North and get out of here. Don't come back. That's a lesson which has to be learnt from experience, but don't let this one be that lesson. If something happens just go and never come back. Not ever. If I can I'll find my own way out and back to you.'

Spencer wanted to know exactly who Floyd thought would see the smoke and who would come after them. It seemed obvious to Spencer that nothing had been here in a while. There oddly though didn't even seem to be animal droppings. The place had that abandoned damp smell to it. There was nothing underlying that smell. Nothing which shouldn't have been there except maybe their own smells. Spencer was also quite sure now that Floyd was deliberately trying to scare Sam who was sitting wide eyed clutching a flashlight in his hand. It wasn't lit. It seemed to be for comfort if anything. They decided that this afternoon and tonight they would sit tight. Dry clothes in the morning would warm them and allow them to think better about what to do next. Floyd's idea of just drying off and moving on wasn't met with much excitement from Sam who complained that his feet hurt and his back was in agony. He also whined and begged and moaned until Floyd finally relented and let Sam have his drugs. He was far from happy about it as he watched the naked Sam curl up in front of the fire. Floyd was enjoying the scene. There was something wild and romantic about the scattering of clothes, the roaring spitting fire, and the naked person. He would have liked to have enhanced the feeling of this bohemian love scene but Spencer was not going to give in to Floyd's loving attention.

'I'm sore and I ache. I just want to rest.'

'You stink too but I'll still have you if I want.'

'Well you've not really put me in the mood for romance with all your stories of death and things coming out of the dark to get us.'

'Would you rather it came as a surprise? Would you have preferred I'd said nowt and let you get dragged away by them? At least you have warning.'

'There's nothing here! This place is empty.'

Floyd shrugged at Spencer. 'Then what's the problem? If it's empty you can drop your pants for me surely? Why do you come up with constant excuses not to let me? What's going on Spencer Reid? Why are you pushing me away? Is it Sam? Have you moved on because I'm too old for you?'

'In years, Floyd you're ageless. In maturity I do wonder sometimes. Do you have the same syndrome as Sam? You said it was genetic.'

That got Spencer a back hander across the face and sharp words in return. 'You calling me an emotional retard you motherfucking shit?' Sam twitched slightly as a spark from the fire landed on his chest. 'Are you implying that I'm second rate?'

'No… not at all. Why would I be here with you if I thought that?'

'Then why fucking well say it? You need to mind your damned mouth and give me some pleasure for once, you selfish bastard. Now. Pleasure me. See if you can remember what I taught you so long ago. See if you can remember what Sam showed you.'

Spencer stood and threw down the bit of wood he'd been holding. 'Sam never showed me anything! What on earth is wrong with you? You wanted Sam with us. You wanted him hanging around getting in the way and now you don't like that he's here do you? I'm not going to just get on my knees and pleasure you because you had a shit day. That's not how it works!'


	15. Chapter 15

15

Apparently that was exactly how it worked though. Floyd took what he wanted from Spencer then tossed him aside and curled up to rest and warm himself on Sam. Reid spent the night in a corner with his back against the wall and a bloody nose and a bruise above his eye. By the morning Sam was wearing dry clothes and sitting looking smug. At least Spencer thought Sam was looking smug. Spencer gathered up the clothes he had hung up to dry and quickly changed at last into something dry. Floyd did likewise. It was suggested that they went out of the place and set some snares and/or gathered food. Spencer was so hungry by now that he felt sick. Sam was wearing knee length cycling shorts, a short sleeved red shirt and a pair of chunky boots. Floyd was in his usual good stuff. They were at last dry and not as cold as they had been, though feet were still aching, backs were sore, eyes were slightly red from lack of nutrition and sleep and Sam had a shocker of a runny nose which he was in the revolting habit of sniffing back up, licking away, or wiping on the back of his hand. Spencer got an amount of pleasure which was far greater than the amount of pain Sam received when Floyd slapped him and called him a disgusting monster.

The morning was spent getting damp again as they watched Floyd set snares. They plucked berries and Floyd collected roots and mushrooms and leaves and they trudged back to the room they'd been in the night before with the idea to go out later and check on the snares and have something nice to eat later. It was the closest they'd got so far to cooking over a camp fire. Sam wanted to explore and Spencer wanted to know what the place was. Floyd wanted to just sit by the slowly dying fire and just wait. He didn't want to walk around this place.

'It will disturb the shadows. It'll encourage them. We need to stay here. It's less intrusive.'

Neither Sam nor Spencer knew what Floyd was going on about.

'He's not been right since he hit his head.' Sam whispered to Spencer and handed him a flashlight. 'He cant order us around. We want to see what this place is.'

Now Reid didn't know what to do. He didn't want to leave Floyd here and he didn't want to give Sam the satisfaction that he'd voted with Sam against him. He also didn't want to just sit and wait for whatever it was Floyd was imagining. If they could show Floyd that the place was totally abandoned then maybe he'd relax. It was which decided Spencer.

'For you.' He told Floyd. 'Sam and I will be careful. We'll check out this ground floor only. We have flashlights. Nothing can go wrong. Once we've shown you that there's nothing there maybe you'll be able to enjoy yourself. We can all enjoy ourselves. Just this floor. We're not going up or downstairs. If there's anything here we'll know.'

Floyd let out a long sigh. 'Very well. Leave that damned door open and… Fuck it. I cant let you two go alone.' Floyd pulled on his boots. 'OK we'll check the place and then check the snares and have a nice evening doing some relaxing crap. Don't touch anything if you're not certain it's safe. If you see anything you're not sure of, dark shadows, movement, an odd light, drawing, animal droppings, bones, anything… We all need to know.' With that understood they opened the door facing North and shone flashlights down a very long straight passageway with windows high in the wall on one side and what seemed to be a long row of doors on the other.

'So what was this place?' Sam stepped through giving the floor a careful sweep of light.

'An asylum or some kind of place for experimental horrors. There were a lot of them at one time. The trouble is that sometimes they were too successful. The horrors remained. Nothing could get rid of it. It's like they say… like I said, ghosts… the walls suck up the atmosphere and play it back to you. Don't trust anything you see.'

'You actually sound scared Floyd.' Sam pointed out.

Floyd shook his head. 'It's not fear. I'm not afraid. I am however aware that we trespass on the soil of something unknown. And I don't think it's friendly. Just be careful. Don't break things and don't take anything.' Floyd thought of the broken chairs they had burned and hoped that they had been left there for burning and not for repairs.

The doors to the many small rooms all opened inwards. They were also all metal doors with a small spy-hole drilled into the metal. The door to the first room was slightly open and the three of them huddled in the dirty doorway and looked in. There were dust motes flying through the air as the light came down through the high narrow glassless window. It was much too narrow for a person to get out of. Barely wide enough to get an arm through it. The room had a stone floor, lumpy once white walls and the frame of a metal bed. There was nothing else there.

'It looks like a cell.' Spencer commented.

'A loony bin.' Sam said. 'There're still places like this you know.'

Floyd spoke. 'They strap you down and leave you to sink into your own piss and shit. They inject you with chemicals, pass electricity through your brain to see how you react and then they get fucked off with you cos you piss yourself again. They cut bits out of your brain… Oh yes… they certainly still have places like this around. Cant you feel that? That… it's like a reflection of fear. It's not _my_ fear but it's someone's. It makes the air taste of ozone.' Floyd licked his lips. 'This is a disgusting place.' They walked now in a strange silence to the next room. Again the door was slightly open and again it was empty apart from the bed frame which was screwed to the stone floor. Floyd reached out and pulled the door closed on this room. The following also had an open door.

'My pebble.' Floyd muttered and again went to close the door, but this time Reid stopped him. He asked Floyd to leave the doors as they are. There was something wicked and creepy about closing them after all this time.

'You know? It's like we're locking something in.'

'Well I think that was the fucking point!' Floyd snapped back at him, pushed him aside and walked further down the passageway not bothering to look into the rooms. Sam scuttled after him but Spencer stood looking into the room. He was sure that Floyd had said the words _My pebble_ and sitting over in the light from the window was a small red and black coloured stone. Spencer checked that Floyd was still in the passageway and walked into the room to retrieve the pebble.

It touched Spencer's back. Something cold. He could feel it through his clothing. It felt like an ice cold hand had rested there. He plucked up the pebble assuming it was Floyd or Sam but whoever it was then pushed Spencer forwards hard. Spencer's feet slipped. He jolted forwards and smacked his head on the wall. He faintly heard the door slam and maybe even a small click of a sound. He moved onto his knees and shoved the pebble into his pocket. Someone had pushed him right into the room and closed the door. Reid leapt up and pulled hard on the door. He was about to start shouting when he heard a voice from the other side of the door.

'What the fuck are you playing at? Unlock the damned door Spencer.' It was Floyd.

'I didn't lock it! Open the door Floyd, this isn't funny!'

'Did you touch something?' He hissed through the metal door. 'Did you pick anything up Spencer? I told you not to touch anything. If you've got something… wait… What in the name of fuck…' Silence for just a few seconds. 'Sam's wandered off. Fucking hell. Whatever it is you've taken just fucking well put it the hell back. We cant afford… Wait… just put it back… I'll come back for you.' Spencer clutched at the pebble in his pocket and heard Floyd shouting out Sam's name.

'Great. This is great. Look…' He pulled the pebble out of his pocket. 'I'm really sorry whoever you are… I didn't know this was special. I made a mistake. Look I'm putting it back again. There it's back.' He gently put the pebble back down and then he hunkered down with his back to the wall and waited. He at least had the flashlight. Thank goodness for small mercies.

o-o-o

Sam had wandered down to the end of the corridor. He'd turned it and had been faced by two sets of stairs. One going up and one going down. They'd previously decided not to do more than one level so Sam just stood at the top of the stairs and shone the light down. Was there something down there? He heard something… the stairs which went upwards had creaked… again… someone was coming down the stairs. It wasn't Floyd because he was back out in the corridor talking to Spencer… obviously wasn't Spencer either. He lowered the flashlight and stood with his head slightly cocked listening for that sound again. He now had his back to the stairs going down.

It touched his back. Something so cold that Sam didn't think he'd ever feel warmth there again. Then something wrapped around his face just as he opened his mouth to scream and he was being pulled downwards. He dropped the flashlight which went out as it clunked to the floor. He could hear Floyd calling him but couldn't answer. Something was over his mouth and nose now. He couldn't breathe. He was in pitch darkness so that he couldn't see and that deep coldness seemed to be sucking every bit of warmth out of him. He tried to kick and scratch and even bite at the thing over his face but nothing seemed to work. If doors closed, he didn't hear them. If Floyd carried on looking for him, he didn't know. He could feel that he was struggling less now, but as soon as that hand left his face, well then even Spencer heard it… The most horrific blood curdling scream which Spencer had ever heard… Not only the fear from that voice but the length the scream carried on for… And just as terrifying the way it suddenly stopped.

'Sam!' A distant call from Floyd.

'Floyd!' Spencer calling to Floyd. 'Get me out of here!' The temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Spencer was sure there were things moving in the shadows. He reached out for the flashlight and it took five goes to pick it up, his hands were shaking so much. 'Please, for the love of the gods don't let anything happen to Floyd. Let him come back for me! No one knows I'm here. I don't want to die here!' His voice rose in pitch as Floyd's voice carried on calling for Sam for a couple of minutes and then that too stopped. A horrific silence. A dreadful cold. Something crawling over his skin… the taste of blood in his mouth, Spencer realised he'd bitten down on his lip until it had bled. 'Floyd… come back for me.' He muttered. 'Please let me out.' He spoke to the pebble as though it was something which could help him.

'The door's not locked.' Floyd hissed from the other side. 'Keep trying to open it from your side. There's no actual lock Spencer, just a bolt which isn't pushed across. Make sure you've put things back how you found them. I'll be back. You'll be safe here. I have to go find Sam.'

'NO!' Spencer howled from the other side of the door Floyd was leaning against. 'Don't leave me here! There're things in here Floyd.'

'Then appease them.' Floyd had no run up to the door. He pushed against it with his shoulder and muttered curses under his breath. 'Talk to them Spencer and tell them that you misunderstood. Tell them how sorry you are. Beg them. They want to be in control. Give them that Spencer. I have to go and find Sam.'

Reid stood with his back against the wall next to the door. 'Please, please Floyd don't leave me here. Get something to force the door open. You cant leave me locked in here. I can help you find Sam if you get me out first. You cant just leave me here. Floyd?'

'Spencer, I'm going to go and look is all. I'm not going searching, just to look where he might have gone. I will be five minutes at the most. You keep talking to whatever is in there. Apologise to them. Beg forgiveness. Get on your fucking knees if you have to! Make sure that you put things back exactly where you found them. I will be back. I promise you.'

Reid sucked in ice cold air into his lungs. 'Floyd? That other door you closed? Maybe you should open it again.'

'I'll be quick.' Spencer heard what sounded like fingernails dragging down the outside of the door. It made Reid think of his apartment door with the scratches and marks in it where Floyd had stood so many times wanting entry and not being able to gain it for some reason. Spencer heard the sound of a creaking door and then Floyd's voice again. 'OK… that was a smart idea. Now just get on your knees Babes and apologise in the best damned way you know. I'll be five minutes at the most. If you think of anything else… just let me know when I return.'

Spencer stood against the wall as he listened to Floyd's hurried steps going down the corridor. The sound echoed in such a way that it was impossible to tell exactly where that sound had come from. It could have been below, or above or even outside. Reid went slowly onto his knees and moved the pebble slightly so it was directly in the light again. 'I'm so sorry. I had no idea this was yours. Please forgive me. I will be more careful next time. I wont touch your things again. I understand that I have intruded into your space and I'm so sorry for that. I didn't know you were here. I know now and I will leave. I will take only that which is mine and I'll go. I will leave and I'll never come back again. I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do to make up for my mistake, please just let me know.' He let out a groan as again something touched his back; gently this time.

o-o-o

Floyd stood in the small space Sam had been standing not too long ago. There was a flight of stairs going up and one going down. Apart from Sam's flashlight laying on the floor that's all there was. Flanders picked up the flashlight and clicked in on and then off again. It didn't work. 'Sam?' He whispered. 'Where the hell did you go?' There was a thick layer of dirt and dust everywhere. Floyd could clearly see that the dust on the stairs going upwards had not been disturbed for many years. He flicked on the light from his own flashlight and pointed it down the stairs. The dust here had also not been disturbed, but there were a few small drops of blood on the greying paintwork and a couple of fresh scrape marks. 'What the fuck?' Floyd stood with his toes over the edge of the first step and shone the light into every corner. 'What the hell happened Sam?' He whispered again and then quickly backed away. 'I am being forced to choose which to rescue? Motherfuckers. No… I'm not. I'll leave them both here rather than choose one over the other.' He backed away some more, turned the corner and ran down the passageway to the room Spencer was enclosed in. 'I'm back Spencer.'

Reid looked up at the door. 'I've apologised.' He mumbled back. 'Did you find Sam?'

Floyd rested his head against the door. 'Stand back from the door Spence, I'm going to get this damned thing open if it means I break my body doing it. Go kneel under the window. Mind you don't mess anything up. Has anything made contact with you?'

It wasn't lost on Spencer that Floyd had ignored his question about the whereabouts of Sam. It also wasn't lost on Spencer that his could all be a game. An evil game of Floyd's. 'I'm by the window.' Spencer spoke loudly trying to push back the fear he was feeling. 'Is Sam there?' He enquired.

He heard Floyd start to batter at the door again from the other side. There was a pause and that scraping sound again. 'Sam's gone. They took him. I'm not going to let them have you too. Now just sit and quietly contemplate every evil or wrong thing you've ever done. A confession as such. Get it all out Spencer. You might not have another chance. You don't have to tell me if you don't want me to know, but a whispered voice will be heard by those who want to know.' Without waiting for Spencer to reply Floyd resumed his battering of the door. He kicked it, which made no difference at all… Scratching gently had no effect… Head-butting it just gave him a headache… smashing against it using his left shoulder made the metal squeal. Floyd lost count of how many times he threw himself against that old metal door. Spencer though could have told him that it was seventeen times, though Floyd thought it was more likely around the billion mark. He flew into the room as the door suddenly swung open, let out a surprised yelp and jumped back out into the corridor again. Reid looked at the open door with great suspicion and then at Floyd with an even greater one. 'Move it.' Flanders hissed at Reid. 'Get the hell out before you do something else stupid.'

Reid did move fast. Floyd thought it might have been the fastest Reid had ever moved. He was expecting Spencer to fly into his open loving arms but the arms were left empty as Spencer pushed Floyd out of the way and started to walk away. No word of thanks. Nothing. Reid was at a near run when he walked back into the room they'd spent the night in. He looked around for Sam and then turned to face Floyd who was standing close behind him with an odd blank look on his face and his glasses sliding down his nose. Floyd pushed them back into place and gave Spencer a quizzical look.

'Where is Sam?' Spencer snapped at him. 'What have you done to him and why?'

Floyd now removed his glasses and walked slowly over to his backpack where he placed them back in a small leather pouch. He then turned to look at Reid who hadn't moved from his place just inside the door. 'You really think I did something to Sam?'

'I know you locked me in that room as some joke while you did what you started off doing all those months ago and got rid of Sam. I just don't understand why. I don't understand why you would do this. Why bring us all the way here? Why make such a fuss when he was ill just to do whatever it is you've done. I heard him screaming! I heard him!'

'He was calling for me to help him you stupid fuck!'

'He was screaming for you to stop!' Spencer howled back at him. 'What have you done Floyd?'

Flanders shook his head and slipped his hands into his front pockets. 'You don't trust me do you? You think I'd hurt Sam?'

'Think? _Think_! I don't have to _think_ a thing! I know it! I've seen what you do to him. I saw you kick him in the face. I know you brought him drugs. I know that you pimp him out. I _know_! I don't have to surmise when I've seen it! I know what you think of Sam. You've told me! What happened though? Did it get too much like I said? Was controlling us both too much for you? And why on earth would I _ever_ trust you? Why? What have you done to show me that I could trust you? You drug me, beat me, poison me, rape me, humiliate me… you take my friends, you remove anything which gives me security… not just my friends but my work, my home, my books, my loves and passions. I'm not allowed anything unless it's attached to you! Why would I trust you Floyd? Give me a reason and I might reconsider walking away from you here. I don't care that I'll be in the forest alone. I can pick berries and find leaves to chew on; you've at least shown me that much. What are you waiting for?'

'I was waiting for you to take a breath so I could add to your rant. I've not hurt Sam. He's been dragged off somewhere down below. Down stairs… basement… downwards… not his arse… not that. I can show you…'

'No! No Floyd I've had enough. I've tried. I've really tried to do what you wanted, though right now I don't know why I bothered. I thought you'd killed yourself when you hit the road. Sam and I nearly died, but you've not asked a damned thing have you? You don't care what we went through. You're only interested if it directly effects you and your ego and Sam and I nearly drowning in mud really doesn't. I'm not doing this any more. Whatever you've done to Sam then go and undo it and have him to give you what you need. I made an error coming here with you. A mighty big error and it's something I'm going to have to live with when I attempt to get my job and life back.'

'Spencer.' Floyd walked quickly towards Reid. 'I've not hurt Sam. I don't know what's happened to him. I had a choice, stay and get you out of that room or go after Sam. I chose you. I chose you… you want the truth?'

'You wouldn't know the truth if it jumped up and cleaned your teeth for you! You are not able to tell the truth. You live on fabrications to make yourself look good in the dull light you are always in. Truth?'

'Truth. Sam has either been taken, or he's hiding. Now I think that maybe he's hiding. He's got a tendency to do something to pull attention back to himself when too much is directed at you. You got locked in the room… He's made a big scene to get me to go after him first. I've not done what he wanted. I've gotten you out first. Now I'm wondering if I made a fucking big mistake.'

Spencer stuffed his clothes back in his bag and checked that he had his razors and lighters; he then shouldered the bag and turned to Floyd. 'Oh you made a big mistake Floyd. You left me for two years. Do you know how much thinking I can do in that time? Very long nights sitting alone wondering where the hell you were, why you'd not contacted you…'

He cut Spencer off. 'I did fucking well contact you! I sent you scenic postcards from Europe and other fancy places.'

'Shut up!' Spencer shouted. 'Just shut up and stop being such a… such a… such…'

'A cunt?'

'If you want… yes… just shut up and listen. I've had time to think about things. I've changed, Floyd. That kicked dog you left behind? Well it grew teeth and a backbone. My mind had time to heal.'

'You're still stupid though. Even though you have that wondrous high intelligence. You're still a stupid dumb fuck if you think I did something to Sam. But whatever babes. Go… get the fuck out. I'll find him on my own. I'll spend my nights curled up with him as he slowly mends. I'll wipe his sore bleeding skin clean and you? Well you… if you don't trust and if you really think I've done something to Sam… why are you not looking for him? Why are you running away? If Sam's hurt and hog tied and gagged in a dark room somewhere shouldn't you be trying to rescue him?'

Floyd didn't defend. He saw no point in it now. He allowed Spencer to smack him a good one in the face. He let Reid grab at his hair as he screamed out words Floyd had never heard him even whisper before. He let Reid kick and punch and scratch and then when Spencer had finished and he slid down the wall with a good display of snot and tears, only then did Floyd reach out and hunker down next to Spencer and wrap an arm around his shoulder. 'If you were pissed off with me, why not just say? No need to bitch slap me.' Floyd kissed the side of Spencer's face. 'Wipe your nose and eyes and find your flashlight. We need to go find Sam.'

'I loath you with every fibre of my being.' Spencer said as he wiped his nose on a bit of rag Floyd passed to him. 'Do you know what this place is? Have you been here before?'

Floyd gave a small shrug. 'Maybe? I don't rightly remember Spence. But it does have an oddly familiar feel about it. I don't feel that I was being held here though. But I might well be wrong. If you're held in a place like this was, then you're not in your right mind anyway. I think this was a place for very sick people.' Floyd tapped Spencer's head with a finger. 'Very seriously sick people with no family, or at least no one who cared. There were a lot of them, these kind of places; not just here… But having said that, I'm wondering if this place is really here or is some kind of – well if we've experienced a slippage of some kind. Not here… not there…'

'So you might have worked here?'

'Oh I might have. I don't remember though. I think I would remember.'

'And the pebble?'

'Ah yes… My Pebble. That's interesting. Get a flashlight and we'll go look for Sam.'

Spencer's rage at the situation had exhausted him. His head was pounding and his knuckles hurt. He hoped that he'd shown Floyd exactly how angry he was with him, but there he was with his flashlight in his hand following Floyd down the passageway towards where Floyd had said he thought Sam had gone. For some mysterious reason Spencer hadn't left. He'd not walked away and left Floyd there, because there was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that Floyd hadn't actually locked Spencer in that room and Floyd maybe, just maybe hadn't done anything to Sam. However Spencer was still very convinced that Sam had screamed because of something Floyd had done. It was confusing him, but he knew he couldn't walk away. Floyd had stopped in a small area where the stairs were and Spencer stood behind him looking over his shoulder.

'Well he was here.' Floyd said. 'His flashlight was there.' He pointed his own light at a place on the floor. 'The flashlight seems to be broken. I'll let you wander around and see if you see what I saw.' Floyd moved to the side to let Spencer get by him. 'And don't get too close to the edge of those stairs. I don't trust them.'

Reid really wished he had his sidearm right now. He looked firstly up the stairs and saw the dust was undisturbed. He then went to the other set and saw there also that the dust was undisturbed. He also picked up on the blood on the wall though and the scrape marks. 'If this is some kind of trick Floyd…'

'I swear it's not, Spencer. I don't understand how the hell he could get down there and leave his blood behind and not disturb the fucking dirt on the treads. Now, there's always the matter that it might not be his blood but to check that I'm going to have to go and taste it and thus walk on the dust and leave a track. I cant do that unless you are sure you're not going to then accuse me of being down there previously.' He noted the gesture from Spencer to just get it done and walked slowly and carefully down four treads to the first speck of blood. 'Well it's still wet.' Floyd wiped his finger over it and then ran his finger tip over his tongue. 'OK it's confirmed that it's Sam. That's good. It means we at least know he went this way. I can also smell a shit load of fear.'

'I have to take your word for that. Can you not see anything more concrete that I can maybe see or smell too?'

Floyd bounced back up the steps. 'What do you want me to find Spencer? A head on a spike? His decapitated limbs? A bottle stuffed with his genitals? Exactly what do I have to show you to prove it's him?'

'Perhaps my faith in you… my trust, my belief that you will ever tell me the truth again is slightly shattered.' Spencer took a deep breath, held out his light and started to descend into the darkness. Ten steps down and there was a grubby landing which turned and then went down another ten steps. Spencer saw bloody smears of fingerprints on the walls. Floyd crouched down and ran his fingers over something which had run off the bottom step.

'He pissed himself. No great shock there, but I don't think he's playing games. He'd rather we didn't know he had a habit of urinating in his posh clubbing clothing when something scares him half to death. I don't think his bowels have let loose though. Not that he's got anything in him to crap out.'

'Sam.' Spencer muttered. 'If this is a game…'

'Then I'm going to kill him first. You can scrape up the bits and do with them what you want, but I've got a lump coming up on my brow because you saw fit to clout me for this.'

'Not for this Floyd. For everything. Everything since that first kiss.'

'Shit. You're going to do it again then aren't you? That first kiss though… babes that was so delightful.'

'I was twelve.'

'Oh _that_ kiss.'

'As I said…'

'Well yeah, you were twelve, but I could see your potential.'


	16. Chapter 16

16

Sam was sitting. At some point he wasn't sure of his big chunky red boots had been removed. He still had on his shirt and cycling shorts though. He was seated on a metal chair with his arms held tight to the arms of the chair. His ankles were tied to the legs and there was something uncomfortable around his neck. He couldn't see anything because a blindfold was wrapped around his upper face. He couldn't scream anymore. There was nothing physical stopping him except absolute overwhelming fear. His hands and fingers hurt from where he was scraping them along the walls where he could to try to stop whatever had a hold of him.

Why hadn't Floyd come when he screamed? Why hadn't Floyd come to his rescue? Had Floyd done this? Had he snuck up behind him and dragged him down into this horrible stinking place he'd been put. The idea that it was that which had happened seeped into Sam's mind and stuck there in much the same way Spencer had been convinced that Floyd had locked him in the cell. Sam wriggled his arms and whatever was holding his arms in place dug in and ripped at his skin so he stopped. He tried moving his head, but again the thing holding him back dug in. Sam felt a gentle trickle of blood sliding down the side of his neck. He made small whimpering sounds. He asked in a sigh what he'd done wrong. He begged Floyd to let him go. He muttered that he was sorry, he'd never do it again…

'Just tell me what I did wrong and I promise…'

All the screaming had hurt his throat. He kept the rest of the words inside his head and just thought them. He considered that if Floyd really wanted an apology he'd pick up on those thoughts and he'd know.

Images of Floyd playing loving games with Spencer now entered his head. Spencer… always getting in the way. Spencer who had hit him when he couldn't defend. Spencer who ran to the Feds whenever there was a problem. Sam let tears flow. He let snot bubble from his nose and he sat there gently bleeding and trying to listen above the sound of his own quick shallow breathing and thumping heart for signs of rescue. There was nothing.

Just complete and absolute silence.

o-o-o

Spencer followed Floyd down dark empty passages. There were doors leading off right and left but they didn't open any of them. They were still following the scrape marks on the walls. It was when they reached a T junction that they stopped walking and just looked around. The marks on the walls had stopped. They could now go right or left.

'Which way?' Spencer hissed into the back of Floyd's neck.

Floyd shook his head. 'How the fuck should I know. Be quiet and step back a bit from me. You stink. I'm trying to pick up on Sam's smell.'

Reid nodded and did what he was asked, though how Floyd would smell anything other than his own stench Reid didn't know. He put his back to a wall and tried not to breathe too loudly whilst Floyd hunkered down and placed his fingers on the floor. He'd seen him doing this many times before when tracking something, but Spencer didn't know how he could track when there was nothing here. 'Don't you know your way around?' Spencer finally asked when Floyd stood again and turned to look at him.

'Why would I know my way around? And if by some fluke I did, how the fuck would I know which way he'd gone? You still don't believe or trust me do you? I suggest that you go back. Go back to that room we started off in and just wait.'

Floyd was right. Spencer didn't trust him, but he wasn't going to go back alone to that dark empty room. 'I don't know.' Spencer muttered. 'I'm coming with you though. If there's something down here…'

'Well there _is_ something down here. Sam's down here somewhere. This way I think… not sure though. Sound as well as smell gets confused down here.'

'Try calling him.' Spencer suggested in a whisper.

'I would… I would but…'

'But what?' Reid walked back to stand next to Floyd.

'But I don't want his screams as a reply.' Floyd gently touched the back of Reid's hand then walked down the left hand passageway. Again there were rows of closed doors and again, for now at least, they didn't try any of them. They thought that they'd come the wrong way when the passageway turned and became a flight of stairs going back up again. 'Shit.' Floyd muttered. 'He's still down here. Go back the other way.' And so they turned and walked faster this time in the other direction, this time with Spencer taking the lead. Reid could hear Floyd muttering behind him. He was saying that they would have to go back and double check all the doors. Floyd was saying that this might be a trick to confuse them. When they reached the T junction again Spencer kept on walking. It was the same as the other passages; rows of closed doors and now no signs that anything had been down here for decades. The smell was repulsive though. A very deep damp dark smell which seemed to be oozing from the damp walls. This passage ended in a closed door. 'Stand back.' Floyd told Spencer. 'Back against the wall again OK? Just wait. I'll check first.'

Reid did as he was asked and stood back about ten foot down the passageway. The light from his flashlight was shaking madly as he tried to keep his hands still. He watched Floyd closely as now he placed fingers on the door and then took a step back and turned to look at Spencer. Floyd licked his lips and gave Reid a tight nod.

'Now listen and don't argue with me. If I tell you to run you get the fuck out of here. Go the way we originally came. Run and get out into the open and get the fuck out. Keep running until you either drop dead or I call you back. Understand?'

He understood the words but not the reasons. 'I'm not running, Floyd.'

Floyd now walked away from the door and over to Reid. He placed a hand on each of Spencer's shoulders and moved in close, pressing himself against Reid. 'Babes, Sam is on the other side of that door. I can smell his stink, his fear, his blood. I don't know what else is there. If I can I will just get Sam and we will leave. If I cant then something very bad is there with him. If that something bad is going to kill me then I don't want you hanging around. Please Spence, if I tell you to run, promise me you'll get the hell out of here.'

'Then promise me you're being honest with me. Promise me that this isn't some sick game.'

Floyd gave Spencer a quick kiss on his slightly open mouth. 'I promise. I fucking promise you I'm not messing around. Now promise me in return.'

'I know what promises mean to you.'

'Then you'll promise me.'

'No… I cant. I cant promise I'll run. I cant do that.'

Floyd sighed. 'It's at times like this that you really fucking well confuse me. You don't trust me and I don't think you much even like me. You detest Sam and would rather he was on the other side of the moon, but you wont run away if something is tearing me apart?'

'I especially wouldn't. _That_ I can promise.'

Now Floyd nodded. 'Very well. Stand there. Run if you want. I wont blame you if you do. Please be careful Spencer. I have this odd feeling in my gut that I might love you a little bit.'

'That's a reciprocated feeling then. Go get Sam. If you say you can smell his blood and fear then maybe you should go rescue him. I'll be OK.'

The door seemed to have no lock or bolt on the outside. There had been one at one point but the lock had been long ago ripped from its housing and hung uselessly. Floyd still didn't want to take any chances though. The last thing he needed now was them to get locked in a room together and nor did he want Spencer to be left outside alone. He could sense that Sam was somewhere behind the door. He could taste his smell in the air. He could also tell that Sam wasn't moving. The matter that he could smell blood didn't bother him all that much. People tended to bleed when ripped open, yet the feeling he got was that Sam was alive and sort of well, just not moving. Floyd turned to look at Spencer again as he rested his hand on the door handle. 'When I go in, follow and stand with your back against the door. Whatever happens do not get locked in the room with us. If you feel the door closing and you cant stop it, get the hell out. You will be of more use this side of the door.' Spencer gave a small nod and Floyd replied with a weird salute and then turned his full attention back to the door. He pushed down the handle and swung it open.

The room beyond was dark but the flashlights picked up Sam sitting on the chair easily. Spencer slid in to the side and pushed the door fully open and stood with his back tight against it. Floyd walked over to Sam and placed a hand on his knee. He was about to speak, but Sam got there first.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done. I'm sorry I pimped myself out, I'm sorry I did drugs, I'm sorry I hurt people and lied and cheated. I don't hate Spencer. I don't hate you. I just wanted to feel wanted. I'm sorry that I cheated on Greah. I'm so fucking sorry that I lost him. I'll go back to college and get an education. I'll stop whoring. I'll stop taking drugs. I'll be nice to Spencer and stuff. I'll go get a nice girl friend who wears flower print summer dresses over skinny jeans and I'll love her and never take it up the arse again. I'm sorry! Please don't kill me. I just want to go home!'

Floyd moved his hand away again and sighed. 'Well that's one hell of a confession. Anything else you want to say?' Floyd stood and walked around the back of the metal chair. Sam seemed to be tied down with barbed wire. He could see where he'd been struggling and where the barbs had cut into his skin. He untied the thing from around Sam's eyes and threw it to the side.

'Just don't kill me. I know you don't like that word but I don't know what else to say. Just don't do this. I know you hate me. I know you want me gone, but I'll go! I'll go back to college and go to Idaho or wherever it was I was offered and you'll never have to see me again. Oh my fucking god look at the state of my arms. I'll be scarred forever now.' A long sobbing breath followed joined by Spencer making an _umph_ sort of sound and a moan of horror as slowly the door pushed towards closing.

'I cant hold the door!' Spencer howled out. 'Floyd help!'

Floyd didn't help though. He looked up and pointed at the opening and told Spencer to move outside the room. 'The door can be broken open. It's a wooden door and there's no lock. Go.' Then he looked back at Sam again. 'Why are you apologising to me? I didn't do this.'

'I know I'm a pain. I know I can be annoying. I know I like the attention to be on me, but I can change. Just let me go and I'll show you how well behaved I can be.' The sound of Spencer's yelp of surprise and the door slamming made Sam pause. Spencer's flashlight was casting a beam across the floor and Floyd's was now pointing at Sam's face.

'I cant see!' Spencer was shouting from the other side of the door. 'What do I do? Floyd!'

Floyd moved around the chair again then hunkered down next to Sam. 'I'm going to get this stuff off you. Just sit still. It might hurt.'

'Floyd!' A howl from behind the door.

'Ignore Spencer. He's scared of the dark. We're going to be fine. Can you tell me what took you? Did you see it? Smell it? Bite it? Anything?'

Sam took a shuddering breath again. 'I thought it was the shadows and then I thought it was you. Where have you been?'

'Did anyone or anything talk to you?' A pause as his fingers worked carefully on the twists of wire. 'Spencer calm the fuck down will you! Just stand with your back to that door and keep pressure on it. Eventually it'll open. Don't wander off. Well don't wander off unless you are running for your life. Sam, why would I do this to you?'

'I've been asking myself the same question. You poison me. You do things to me and then say it's to keep me aware of my surroundings. You scare the fucking shit out of me and then laugh. Why wouldn't you do this?'

'OK I'll rephrase the question; Sam when would I have gotten the time to do this to you?' Floyd could hear Spencer banging uselessly on the door as he talked to Sam partially to calm him down because he hated the sight of a runny nose and also to attempt to work out exactly who or what was responsible for doing this. 'When we get out of here I'm going to get us to somewhere nice and we are going to sit down and have booze and food and smoke until we feel sick… then a bed. How does that sound? We can… can…' He paused. The banging on the door had changed from what had sounded like Spencer hammering on it with fists to a more frantic scrabbling. 'Sam wait here.'

'Wait? What the fuck do you mean wait? You've only taken that thing off my neck and released one foot. Where the fuck do you think I'm going to go?'

Floyd pointed at Sam and took steps back away from him. 'That Sammy boy, I think, is the point. You're not going anywhere.' Now with his back to Sam he walked quickly to the door and pulled on the handle. As he assumed… nothing happened. The door was stuck tight. 'Spencer! What the hell is going on out there?'

o-o-o

Spencer would have very much liked to have known the answer to that question. It was so dark that he couldn't see the door he was hammering on frantically. It wasn't even a normal darkness. He could feel it. He at least thought he could feel something trying to wrap it self around him and pull him away from the door. He knew that he screamed for help at one point and he was sure that he heard Floyd telling him to get out and find some light. Spencer hammered a few more times on the door. Whispered 'I'm so sorry.' Turned and fled as fast as he could back the way he'd come. He ran his hand down a wall trying to work out in his head how far it was to the T junction where he'd have to turn and go the way they'd arrived. He thought in his panic that the other stairs were closer but he had no idea where they came out at. Spencer attempted to visualise in his head how many doors were on his left before he'd reach the corner. He knew he should remember but he couldn't. What he _did_ know what that Sam was screaming somewhere behind him and Floyd was silent.

At the corner Spencer went to turn but he slipped and fell to his knees and there was that feeling like he'd had when in the room with the pebble; something touched his back and it was something horrifically cold. 'Floyd?' He muttered, but he knew that wasn't Floyd. It couldn't be. Floyd was the other side of that door wasn't he? Surely he'd not done something even worse to Sam and then come after him. An ice cold – what felt like breath – crept over Reid's neck, he tried so hard not to but he made a small whimpering sound as he got back to his feet. It was like running through something almost solid. The darkness felt to Spencer like he was trying to run through water. He could breathe, albeit not steadily and not with the grace he'd like to have been, but the darkness seemed to have substance to it. He could feel it tickling through his hair and running dark fingers up the back of this shirt where it had untucked from his cords. He could feel it crawling over his face, making Spencer slap at his own cheeks to make it go away. Had he been able to think straight, and had he been able to stand there in a clean pristine room with marker-pens in his hand and map on the wall with lovely over head strip lighting… if _that_ had been where he was he might have been able to point out that he was maybe suffering the side effects of being gassed or drugged by something; he might have thought that this was all in his mind.

Nothing was real.

He might have, as he was running up the stairs, been wondering when things stopped being real and started to become a this odd dream he was having. However, Spencer wasn't thinking along those lines at all. He was running up the stairs two at a time in the pitch dark with the full knowledge and without any doubt in his mind at all that the shadows were indeed alive, and that he'd done the one thing he'd said he wouldn't do and he'd run away. And he had every intention at that point at he stood at the top of the stairs straining his eyes in the dull afternoon light which was falling through the window openings, of getting his bag and leaving this place and for once following orders which Floyd had given him. Spencer stood with his back to the wall for a few minutes to regain his breath and to listen out for sounds coming from that nightmare he'd just run from. There was nothing. Not a sound. Spencer rubbed at his eyes and then at his temples and only after giving the stairs a quick final – for now at least – look he turned the corner and started to walk in the dim light.

As he passed the first door… _just_ as he passed it, the door slammed shut. He stopped and turned and went back to the door and peeked through the spy hole. There didn't seem to be anything in there other than the bed frame and dust motes. He walked on. There were in total twelve doors, but he was sure that there had been eight when he was here last time. Spencer decided that his memory was actually correct and what he'd done, in fact, was to have come back up the wrong set of stairs. Yes the place _looked_ the same but it obviously wasn't. Just a few more doors.

'Nothing to worry about. Get my stuff and leave. Go and get help. Go North and get help.' But deep down he now knew that he couldn't. He shouldn't have run and he couldn't leave. It's strange that once you're removed from something which you think is so terrifying that you're going to drop dead of fear right where you stand, that fear goes and you actually start to think it wasn't so bad after all. Spencer listened to the slamming doors echoing through the corridor and made up his mind that what he actually did have to do was to get another flashlight, or anything with a light to it, a match or lighter would do, then he'd go back and get Floyd. This was what was on his mind when he pushed open the door at the end of the corridor to go back into the large room with the fireplace. This was what he was thinking when he looked up and saw a row of men in what appeared to be mititary uniform, holding weapons. Pointing them in Spencer's direction. Rescue?

'Thank god.' Spencer hissed out between his teeth. 'How did you know where to find us?'

He didn't get his answers right away. He was prodded and poked, patted down and searched. 'He's not armed.' Someone told the one who seemed to be in charge.

'Good. That's a start. Tie him up. I want to know what in the name of hell he is doing here and I want to know where the hell the others are. If he wont tell you, then make him, but he looks like someone who's going to be willing to sell his soul to the devil to get his sorry ass out of this place.'

Spencer was encouraged to put his hands behind his back so that they could use Plasticuffs and restrain him. They then pushed the uncomplaining Reid into a corner and told him to sit. Spencer for now did exactly what they wanted him to do. Once this army of men were sure he wasn't going to run away or try to kill them all with some weird and wonderful martial art they began with the questions.

'Who are you?' An easy start.

'Reid.' An equally easy answer.

'Where are your two friends?' He was now asked.

'I am alone.'

This was an obvious lie and he received a backhanded slap around the face for it. 'We know there are three of you. There are three lots of bags and clothing. Where are the other two?'

Reid swallowed and heard the dry click of panic at the back of his throat. 'Something happened.' Spencer started to say.

'I'm sure something happened. Something _will_ happen if you walk around here and don't know what you're doing. I'll repeat the question and I don't want you to tell me _why_ they are where they are; I just need a general location. Are they dead?'

'What is this place?' Spencer asked. He got another slap around the face for this.

'We are asking the questions. Where are the other two?'

Reid wondered briefly if there was any point in trying to lie about this. Was there a point in attempting to draw them away from where Floyd and Sam were? He sighed and looked over at the door he'd burst through. 'They are down stairs. Locked in a room. I ran to get help.' He added.

'Tell me Reid, why are they locked in a room downstairs? Did you lock them in?'

Spencer gritted his teeth and replied. 'You know I didn't. Why would I be getting help if I had? Something locked me in one of the cells and then something… I don't know what… took one of my companions and tied him to a chair. We went looking for him once we got the door open to the cell and found him, but the door… the door slammed shut and locked me out. They're in the room together. With flashlights and with something to get the door open we can go and get them.'

The man nodded and looked over at his commanding officer who slowly shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but if your friends are locked in a room down there then that's exactly where they will stay. I'm not risking my men or resources to rescue fools. What in the name of god are you doing here anyway? We saw your smoke. We knew you were here and watched and kept watching and when no one reappeared we assumed you were all dead and came in to look. I'll escort you back out, but then you're on your own. Don't even think about coming back. Next time you wont be treated so gracefully and you'll get a bullet in the brain and no questions asked. Understand me?'

Spencer thought that he understood, but he still had questions to ask. 'What is this place? What is it down there? I cant leave them there. I cant. Sam was tied to a chair with barbed wire. What did that? That's not imagination or the aura of the place making me see or hear things imagined. That was real and though I don't disbelieve in spirits and paranormal activities I really don't think that a reflection of fear, pain, and anguish can do what it seemed to do. If you wont assist me in going back for my companions, then I will go alone.'

The officer walked over to Spencer and jabbed at him with a handgun. 'You, young man have not understood at all have you? You cannot go back down there for a few reasons. One being that I'm not going to permit it. I'll not allow someone to walk to his death if I can avoid it. I'm meant to be protecting. That's the point of the uniform Reid; it's to offer up protection. Protection is what you shall receive in the form of us getting you out of here alive. If I let you go back down there you will die and that I simply cannot permit. You can see how this is going to turn out now I hope. If your friends or your _companions_ as you call them are still down there then I'm afraid that's where they will have to stay. They are probably beyond our help now anyway. Nothing comes back from there alive.'

'I beg to differ. I did.' Spencer argued. 'And I made a promise that I would fight to the last to defend him.'

A small silence settled over the room.

'There is a problem with that though.' The officer told Spencer. 'You see Reid, this place is sort of kept hush hush. We don't want silly boy scouts running riot around here and then going home and reporting it. Posting info on that fucking FaceBook thing. That is something we really cant have happening, so if you manage to get your companions out, well you see then my orders to protect are going to have to go beyond you and extend to the rest of the population. The very last thing we want is for sightseers to come waltzing down here getting themselves killed. So… can you see my problem? How do you think is the best way for you to keep your mouths shut if you manage to survive?'

Reid shook his head. 'I'd not report this place.'

'The hell you would! You'd report this to the first damned person in authority you could find. You'd demand it investigated, torn down, blown apart… I know your sort Reid. I only have to look at you and know that you'd never let this rest, but even if you gave me your word; what about the other two? How will they explain their injuries?'

Reid wriggled uncomfortably. 'What injuries?' He asked. 'Anything could have happened when walking in the woods. We've already had a couple of accidents. Look, we only came here to get out of the rain. Everything we had was sodden. We needed a fire and somewhere dry to sleep. The van broke down. We wouldn't have been here otherwise. But the point is that any injuries could be explained.'

The man shook his head. 'No… you see you're wrong. They will blab their scared mouths off and you'll join in happily. You don't think I've seen this situation before? You will be removed from here. The men will take you somewhere safe. You will talk to no one about this place. You lost your friends in the woods. If people come to try to rescue your friends I will know you've talked. I _will_ know. I _will_ come after you and I will make sure you never speak another word.'

'You cant threaten me.' Spencer snapped. 'The man I love… the man… the…' He paused not knowing if he'd blurted out way too much. 'He's down there and I cant leave him. Let me go alone. If it's so bad… if it's so dangerous then what's the problem? I'll die down there too, but I cant leave them there. I need a flashlight. I need to keep back the shadows and I'll be fine. You can wait here for us.'

'You didn't listen did you young man. I said and I will repeat that you cannot leave here with your friends. Do you understand what I'm saying?'

'And I cannot leave them there either!' Spencer said back, trying to keep a steady voice. 'I'd not leave them there any more than you would leave one of your men behind.'

'What makes you think I'd not leave one of my men behind? Huh? My men know full well that if they go down into those corridors beneath this place that they will not be returning. They know that very well. They also know what will happen if they _do_ return. As I said though, I'm here to protect, but I'm not going to waste my time on fools. I know that my presence here is barely tolerated. I know where I stand. I think you still have a lot of things to learn though.'

Spencer sat trying to pull his hands out of the bindings trying to think of a way out of this. He did a quick headcount; there were fifteen men here, all armed and ready to shoot on command, of that he was sure. He was also sure that none of these men had ever been down in those other passages. At least not in a long time. The dust was undisturbed. There was no sign of combat down there. He also wondered if Floyd could take out this many men, especially as they had weapons. This was one of those rare times that Spencer was actually glad that Floyd could go off into a murderous rage and mass kill in the blink of an eye. Could he against these men though? 'Let me go. Let me go back to my companions. I just need a flashlight.'


	17. Chapter 17

17

There was much muttering and shaking of heads and some arse scratching going on now. One man stood keeping an eye on Reid as the others walked to the far corner and had a _private_ meeting. Reid tried to smile at the young soldier looking at him with cold blue eyes. 'We just needed to get out of the rain.' Spencer told him. 'Somewhere to dry off.' He spoke quietly and with a level tone. 'We were going to leave as soon as we could. We are travelling North to the mountains.'

'Shut up.' The gun waggled in front of Reid's nose.

'I want you to know that we didn't mean to trespass. We thought the place was abandoned.'

'You will shut up, or I'll shut you up. Last warning.' The soldier waved his automatic rifle at Spencer's face again. It was very strange. Spencer didn't think that the man had blinked yet. People who didn't blink always worried Reid. There was something dangerously insane about people who never blinked.

'Please, let me go to my…' He didn't say more. The young soldier with the unblinking pale blue eyes whirled his rifle around and smacked Reid in the face hard with the butt.

'I told you I'd shut you up.'

As Reid started to slide sideways onto the floor the soldier who still hadn't blinked smacked the butt down on the side of Spencer's head. Reid fell into a calm lovely warm darkness this time; it was nothing like the horrific thick darkness from down where Floyd and Sam were still. At least he thought they were still there.

o-o-o

Floyd didn't get a reply from Spencer and tugging on the door handle just left him with a handle in his hand and no longer attached to the door. Sam was whimpering that he was sorry and if Floyd just released him he could prove it. Floyd threw the door handle to the floor and turned again to face Sam.

'I think you need to stay here. I have to go see what's happened to Spencer, but if I untie you I have a feeling you're going to come racing after me and that just wont do.'

'I'll give you my word of honour that I'll not follow you. I'll stay here I promise!'

'Word of honour? Well now I know you _will_ follow me if I leave this room, so…' Floyd gave a small shrug. '… I'll untie one arm to match that pretty little leg of yours. If you can get out fair game but Sam you will _not_ follow me. Sit there, stay sitting there and hold the flashlight thing and keep the shadows away and you'll be safe. Just keep the fucking shadows back. This is assuming I can batter my way through that doorway.'

He hunkered down next to Sam and swiftly pulled back the barbed wire holding his arm down. 'And if you don't return?' Sam asked.

Floyd gave Sam a small smirk of a smile. 'I never return if business is finished. You know that. It's a rule of mine. Never return.'

'You're talking about scenes of crimes not young men battered and scared half to death and tied to a metal chair with spiked wire.'

He shook his head at Sam. 'Huh? No… just never return. Same rule for everything. Unless you have unfinished business.'

'Right.' Sam began to untwist the wire from his other arm. 'Unless Spencer is there; then you'll return like a dog sniffing after his favourite arse.'

Floyd had his hands against the door and was frowning. 'Spencer _is_ always unfinished business Sam, and I _am_ a dog sniffing after my favourite arse. You should remember that.'

'I thought I was your favourite!' Sam sniffed as he leaned down to untangle his leg and Floyd moved back away from the door taking deep breaths.

'That's what too much thinking does. Too many drugs too… You thought wrong. I can replace you. I cant replace Spencer.' Another deep breath and he hurled himself at the door which made a slight cracking sound compared to the 'FUCK!' which Floyd yelled out as he bounced back away from it. 'I might be here a while. How are you doing there?'

'Almost out.'

Floyd nodded and repeated his tackle of the wooden door. This time there was a nice loud snapping crack from the side of the door with the hinges. 'Well once you've undone that stuff I want you to stay sitting. Just sit. Don't fucking touch anything and don't damned well leave this room under any circumstances. I'll come back for you if you stay put. If you follow you will die and you become finished business and I will _not_ come back to scrape your stinking piss covered carcass off the walls. You got me Sam?'

'I got you but I don't understand why. Why cant I just follow you?'

Floyd again hurled himself at the door and this time he continued onwards outside the room as the door gave way and collapsed outwards into the passageway. Floyd took a few steps forwards and turned to look at Sam. 'You are a lure to trap me into doing something stupid. Now you got yourself into this position by getting your stupid self dragged down here. I've made your last few minutes more comfortable. Given you a chance to fight back.' He stepped back into the room and pushed Sam back down into the chair where he'd stood from. 'I said you must stay!'

'But I'll die anyway! That's what you're saying.'

Floyd leaned over and gave Sam a kiss on his slightly snotty lips. 'Stay sitting there or I will knock you into next week and you'll never be able to defend yourself. Sit there. Wait. I have to go and get Spencer out of this place. Don't make this more difficult for me than it already is.' Floyd licked his lips and spoke slowly. 'Sam, stay in this room, if you leave you will be dragged back and you will die. If you don't leave then there's no need for them to hurt you. I will come back for you. You are safe here. Nothing's going to hurt you. Hold the flashlight and keep back the shadows. I will find Spencer and I will come back for you as soon as I can.'

'Do you promise?' Sam whispered.

'I said didn't I?' Floyd turned and left without saying another word. He ignored Sam's shouts for him to come back.

Floyd walked quickly down the passage to the T junction. He then glanced back at Sam who was sitting on the chair waving the flashlight around like a lunatic. Floyd let out a long sigh, gave Sam a _goodbye_ salute – as right then he really thought he'd not be seeing Sam again – and he turned the corner. It was something Sam had been waiting for. He leapt up off the chair and swung the light over the floor. He could keep his word and not go through that door, but he had no intention of staying there sitting on a chair waiting for something to sneak out of the shadows to eat him from the toes upwards. There was a man hole cover central at the back of the room and it was to there that Sam moved quickly and silently. The cover came up with stupid ease and Sam shone his light down the hole. It looked to go down about ten foot and end in what appeared to be dried up old sewers. Not the best place to hide in, but he'd hidden in worse places and at least down there was not someone Floyd had forbidden him to go. He slipped the end of the flashlight in the waistband of his knee length cycling shorts so that the light shone upwards and very carefully slipped through the hole, pulling the cover closed behind him. There was a metal rung ladder covered in slime and rust which Sam now climbed down to what he'd thought was nothing but dried up muck. It was wetter than he would have liked though. The sewers served the drain away the rainwater as well as other very nasty things and he slid into a slimy mess which went up to his knees.

In the meantime Floyd was hunkered down on the first landing of the stairs. He could hear distant voices; sharp commands going from one person to the next. He could smell confusion and maybe a bit of panic, but he wasn't sure that it was Spencer's. As he'd pointed out earlier it was hard to tell in this place. Sounds and smells travelled in an odd way. Floyd wasn't even sure that all of the smells were real. With unusual care on Floyd's behalf he slunk up the stairs to the top landing and stood quietly with his back to the wall, out of sight of the long corridor. Again he listened. He had made a decision to leave Sam behind but was now wondering if that had been the correct one. He was aware of the constant mistakes he made. He was fully aware that he fucked up whenever he had some grand plan to carry out. Floyd decided that the best way forward now was just to not think about it and let things just happen. He didn't feel that he had any control over it now. He turned off the flashlight and stuffed it behind his belt, tugged on the hem of his waistcoat, checked that his shirt was tucked in properly, tucked his hair behind his ears and with a long and easy gait he walked down the corridor towards the door at the end where he could definitely hear voices coming from. As he walked he thought that it would be a jolly fine idea to test the door, listen at it, try to fathom out what was going on, but then changed his mind and opened the door without another thought.

It was obvious that they'd not been expecting him. The men in the room swung around and pulled weapons up to point at him. Floyd did a quick check to see if Spencer was amongst the living and spied him laying in a lump in the corner. For now he ignored Spencer and tried to concentrate on the situation he'd walked willingly into.

Reid watched through narrowed eyes. He didn't want these men to know he was awake. His head hurt, his ribs ached as though he'd been kicked though he couldn't remember that happening, his hand were still behind his back but he could feel that his wrists had been bleeding. Spencer watched Floyd stand and take everything in. He expected that wild rage to explode onto the men but that's not what happened. Floyd hunkered down and frowned at them.

'You must be Flanders.' One of the men threw Floyd's driving licence at him. It landed just in front of Floyd who picked it up, glanced at it and slipped it into his back pocket. 'Where is the other one?' A pile of ID cards were now thrown at Floyd. 'And which one of those is the real one?'

Floyd looked down at Sam's ID's. Indeed he did have a few and they all had different birth dates on them. 'They are all real.' Floyd ran a finger over the nearest one and picked that up too and slipped it into a pocket.

'Different dates of birth. Even different names on some of them.'

'The information given to secure the ID may have been fake, but the ID it self is very real. As am I – in case you were wondering.'

'Where is this Sam Trent Saviour… aged somewhere between fourteen and twenty-one. I'd like to meet him.' There was a sneer on the man's face.

'Well Sam is a bit indisposed right now. Actually – in the time it's taken me to get back here and listen to your stupid questions I would have thought he was – how can I put this – no longer your concern? I think that's about right. Now what the fuck have you done to my Spencer? And who the hell are you?' Floyd stood up and placed his hands on the small of his back and stretched and yawned as though these people really were not his problem. He took a step to the side and gave Reid another glance. He caught the slight flicker of the eyelashes and Floyd licked his lips in response. Someone had hurt his Spencer. Someone who had no permission to do so, had hurt his Spencer. His one step to the side though was accompanied by a clattering of weapons being readied and safety catches being removed. Floyd wasn't all that up on this sort of weaponry but he could tell an automatic rifle when he saw one.

'You need to stand very still.' He was told by a chap with a hand gun. 'One move, just one step and you are dead. Do you understand me?'

'I think that's quite straightforward, but I'd like to know why. This place wasn't secured as such. Why the big fuss, and why beat Spencer? I really don't believe that he was a threat to you. He's no threat to anyone except maybe himself.'

'Your boyfriend didn't know when to shut up.' The officer replied.

'Ah… bad habit and I think maybe he caught that off me. I have a tendency to go on a bit sometimes too. I'd say it was nerves. You know? Having guns pointed at you for no good reason would usually make a man nervous… talking is a way to conceal it, however that's not the case with me. You might have big guns there sir, but you don't fucking scare me. Now it looks to me like you've got _my boyfriend's_ hands tied behind his back and I'd like it if you could please remove whatever it is holding his hands there. You see I know him quite well since I fuck him regularly and I know he doesn't lay like that unless he's restrained. Oh I restrain him regularly too which is another reason I can spot these things. I'm prepared to forgive your mistake in hitting my boy, but if you think you can intimidate me with your weapons then you'd best think again. I've lost my Sam and I'm not going to lose my Spencer too. Having said that… you really don't want to see me lose my temper and it's boiling right there on the surface ready to storm out and do things you'd not think possible from just one pissed off fag.' He paused long enough for the guns to start waggling again.

'Who the hell are you?' Again the officer.

'I am Floyd Flanders Franks. You know that. You had a good look at my drivers permit. You've been rummaging through my clothes so you know I like good things, you've probably worked out that I take drugs, but they're not mine. I was minding them for Sam but he'll not be needing them again I'll gift that shit to you if you want it. Spencer's not going to want it and I don't do needles. The Franks part of my name is more of a title than a name though which is why I don't often use it. Some government officials insist on using the whole lot but it's not necessary. Same would apply to Sam too. A bit like the Doctor part of Spencer's name. You've probably worked out that Sam had a particular way of dressing. That's because he is or should I say _was_ such a slag, but he did repent just before… well… you know… I'm sure that you know what happens down those tunnels and passageways, I can smell it on you. The fear. It smells like shit on a summer day. I'm sure you've smelt that before. Anyway… yes Sam repented right at the end there. What are you going to do next? I think if you were going to blow me full of holes you would have done it before now.'

'Well, Mister Franks, you thought wrong.'

The bullet took Floyd in the centre of his chest. He heard the sound of the gun firing and he felt something rip through him but it was still a while before he realised just what had happened. Somewhere he could hear Spencer shouting something, and he could see through an odd grey light people running forward. Floyd was still on his feet though when another round hit him, this time just below his throat. Floyd moved a hand to the place the bullet had hit him the second time and decided that it would be a very good idea to play dead. He took a step backwards and gracefully went down to his knees and then to his front being careful not to hit his head too hard on the floor. He then thought it a good idea to close his eyes just a little bit, slow down his breathing and pulse and lay still. What he wanted to do was run at them and tear them apart and pull out entrails, and nibble on hearts and livers, but he would save that for if they tried to take his head or even place his stupid cadaver on the fire. He could hear Spencer making odd noises from where he was laying and Floyd tried to signal to Spencer that he was actually fine, but that odd greyness engulfed him as the room went black and sound was muted.

Reid watched in horror as the men did check Floyd's life signs and finding nothing they took orders to throw him down the stairs where he'd crawled from and let the shadows have him. He watched Floyd, the man he thought was going to save him, being dragged out by his feet and away out of sight.

'You didn't have to do that!' Spencer howled at the officer. 'What did you do that for?'

'He was going to be a problem. I don't think you will be though will you Reid? You're going to behave and do as you're told. You will be taken back to base and you'll be questioned and given instructions. I'll let them decide what's to be done with you. As for your buddies, Franks and Saviour, well they don't exist any more.' The officer turned to the remaining men. 'Collect up their things and get that one off the floor. We're not staying here the night. Let's get the hell out of here.' When it was pointed out though that the rain was coming down like a monsoon and when the thunder started it was decided to stay put. A fire was lit and four of the men were sent outside to keep guard, though what of Spencer didn't know. He watched in silence as all the ID cards of Sam's were thrown into the fire. They rummaged through the bags and removed anything which had any form of identification on it and it was burnt. The rest of the stuff was pushed back into the bags and thrown to the side. There were a few guffaws over some of the things Sam had packed and Reid felt his heart sinking wondering if he'd ever get the amusement to see Sam wearing that stuff again… or ever in some cases. No one bothered talking to Spencer, though the man with the cold blue eyes kept a close watch on him. Reid's head hurt and his mind was swirling trying to think if Floyd could have survived what they'd done to him. He thought he could. He'd seen Floyd survive worse, what Spencer didn't understand was why Floyd had let it happen in the first place. Why had he just walked in and let them do that? Why had he left Sam behind? And moreover had Floyd done something unspeakable (for anyone other than Floyd who _would_ speak of it given the chance) to Sam.

The men shared out food and even offered some to Spencer. They untied his hands and then re-secured them in front so that he could nibble on the rations and pick up the water bottle.

No one seemed to sleep.

At some point during the storm Spencer felt the floor begin to vibrate. Initially he thought it was his imagination and then he thought that something dark and vile was going to come bursting into the room (something darker and more vile than Floyd).

'Don't worry.' The officer said. 'It's the drainage system here. It's old, but still sort of works. During heavy rains the sewers fill with water which drains from the hills. One day I'm sure they'll over flow or explode, but not yet. This place is built over what was once an underground river. Sounds like it's filling up wonderfully. They must have opened the sluice gate up at the lake.'

Reid said nothing but nodded slightly and curled himself up tighter.

o-o-o

Sam was wading through shin deep shit. He was following what seemed to be a straight tunnel full of sludge which was a lot wetter than he thought it should have been. There was a small ledge at the side but it was so covered in green slime and rats that he decided that as he was more or less covered in crap he might be safer walking down the middle and forgo the risk of falling head first off the ledge into thick ancient faeces. Apart from the abundance of shit, one of the first things Sam noted about this tunnel was the feeling that the shadows were actually _just_ shadows and nothing abnormal was about to jump out on him. He also noted that there was life down here, slug type things and rats and mushrooms growing out of the old wet (very wet and dripping) brickwork. Sam walked for an hour watching the rats move around lazily, not bothered that there was someone squelching down there with a light. It was a sudden change which alarmed Sam. A smell. A rich dark wet smell which wasn't the eye-watering stink he was kicking up as he walked but something else. He turned and pointed the light back the way he'd come but couldn't see anything creeping up behind him (which had been his first thought). Then he noted that the rats were scuttling away through tiny holes between the bricks. He stood with his eyes closed for a short while trying to work out what it reminded him of. There was something familiar about the air which was suddenly being pushed down the tunnel from behind him. Though it was very different in smell and though the circumstances were vastly different it _did_ remind him a bit of how it feels when standing in a tunnel underground awaiting a train. The displaced air being forced forwards.

The depth of the stuff he was standing in began to rise slightly, not much, but enough for it to be just below Sam's knees now. Again he turned and shone the light back down the tunnel and again he saw nothing.

'What the fuck?' He whispered. 'What's going on?'

Then the rumble. The vibrations beneath his feet.

'No.' He whispered to himself. 'Oh fuck no.' He looked up at the walls and now he was looking properly could see what seemed to be a high tide mark and that mark was a lot higher than Sam's head. 'I'm going to drown in shit.' He muttered. 'Oh fucking fuck.'

Sam turned back the way he'd been walking and now ran. He was light on his feet and his balance was good; he was fast and agile, but he was not used to running through this stuff. It splashed up his back, up his front, in his mouth, eyes, up his nose and now he could feel the liquid touching his fingers. Sam looked out for a ladder like the one he'd come down, but there seemed to be nothing. He'd not seen a much hoped for manhole cover since the one he'd dropped down. His only hope not to be swept away in a torrent of whatever was heading his way was to go up onto the ledge and hope that the water (or shit) didn't go up that far this time. He hoisted himself up, and crouched down, stuffed his flashlight down the front of his cycling shorts, digging his fingers into the brickwork as the screaming, rumbling wall of water raced down the tunnel. He saw it coming, held his breath… and knowing that it was going to rip him off his ledge, gave up trying to hold on and he wrapped his arms around his head and prayed.

'Please for the love of all the demons in hell don't let this kill me. I don't want to die in a sea of shit. Thanks.'

It was the last thing he said or thought before he was picked up and swept away down the tunnel with the rest of the turds.

o-o-o

Floyd lay in a tangled heap on the first landing of the stairs going down to where he'd left Sam. Somewhere in the back of his mind in a soft darkness he felt his face hit the steps as he was thrown down. He could feel sticky wetness on his face, but that was about all he could feel. The rest of him had gone into an emergency shut down. It wasn't the best place to hibernate and get him self healing quickly. Though he couldn't hear that the men were still upside with Spencer he could sense they were still there. Floyd couldn't afford for them to come back and find that he'd moved. He didn't want them to discover him hidden away in a darkened corner when in actuality he should be dead and therefore would be where they'd left him. A bullet in the head to finish him off wasn't what Floyd wanted right now. He would have liked Sam to disobey him though and wander down here and find him. Floyd could have done with a bit of sensual healing and maybe a hug, but Sam didn't arrive. Floyd also felt the vibrations under the building but with his hearing still off he couldn't hear the deep rumbling. For now he was stuck where he was and was horrible reliant on Spencer and Sam to come to the rescue.

Reid wanted to stay awake, but the stress of the situation drained him and as he lay curled up in the corner of the room he slipped from awake to asleep quickly. He awoke three times in the night. The first time it was because someone was shaking him.

'You're having a nightmare buddy.'

He was told and with a groan Spencer curled back up knowing that his whole life when Floyd was around was a nightmare. The dreams didn't even come close to the horror of being awake. The next time he woke up screaming with a three people standing looking down at him. One of them was the guy with the cold unblinking eyes.

'You have a lot of nightmares.'

There was no need to respond. Spencer did give a slight nod though and re-gathered his limbs about himself and fell straight back to sleep. The final time he awoke thrashing around, there was a slight light coming through the high windows. He pushed up onto his elbows and looked at the men gathering their things together and pulling packs onto their backs. The officer came over to Spencer with a bottle of water and set it down in front of him.

'I've been on the radio to my commander. Good news for me but not so good for you.' He reached out and cut the cuffs.

Reid picked up the bottle of water. He was deathly thirsty but he didn't open it yet. 'I just want to be with my friends.' Spencer muttered.

'Well you might just get your wish. My commander doesn't want you back at base camp. Too risky. I'm sure you understand that. Secrets. I cant let you go either, but you're not a threat are you Reid? You look like you've never raised your hand to anyone in your life. Couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag I wouldn't think. An accountant?'

Reid wasn't about to admit that he was a trained FBI Agent but shook his head anyway. 'Librarian.' He thought that was a good enough lie. 'I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to come to this place, but Floyd… he was hurt and we had no shelter…'

'Well your lover boy is even more hurt now. Fatally hurt.' Reid said nothing. 'We've decided to let you go to him. Really I would have let you go but some of my men here just don't trust that you'll walk away and not report this to anyone. They want you dead and it's taken a lot of persuading to get them to see my way.' He passed Spencer a flashlight. 'I will go with you to make sure that you do in fact walk your sorry, yet very fortunate ass back down those stairs. You will collect your dead buddy and carry on walking downwards. If that other fellow is still down there somewhere I'd suggest that you get the three of you together. At least you might last the day out with some sort of cannon fodder to protect yourself with.'

Reid nodded and now picked up the water bottle. 'Thank you.' He sighed.

The officer shook his head. 'No, no don't you thank me. I'm sending you to be torn apart by whatever it is that lives down there. Maybe it'd be better if I gave you the option of having Adams finish you now. I know he'd not hesitate.' He gestured over his shoulder at the blue eyed trooper.

'I'll take my chances downstairs.' Spencer took a long gulp of water. 'May I take the water with me?'

The office shrugged. 'You'll not be alive long enough to drink it, but if it makes you feel better.' A flashlight was slapped in Spencer's hand. 'Now, before I change my mind. We're ready to leave and I don't want the sound of your screams to be echoing through my head for a week. Believe it or not I'm not a bad person Reid, I'm just doing my job and protecting people.'

'As was evident by the way you killed my companion.' Reid stood up and put the water bottle in his jacket pocket.

There was no point in trying to ask this man for food. Reid knew that he expected him to be dead by the following morning. He walked down the passageway with the closed doors giving the door he was locked behind for a while a quick wary glance. The officer walked behind him in silence. Spencer was half expecting Floyd to be gone when he shone the light down the stairs but he was still there facing the wall with a nasty red puddle of blood next to him.

'You should have been more careful about the company you kept.' The officer remarked.

'I wish I'd had your advice when I was younger. It's very much too late for me to contemplate on my errors now.' With another sigh Reid slowly walked down the steps. The officer was shining his own light down there; whether to check that Floyd wasn't still breathing or to gloat over what he'd done, Spencer didn't know of really care anymore. He crouched down next to Floyd and rolled him over onto his back and then rather clumsily lifted him over his shoulder. He didn't look back at the officer. He didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of seeing the bitterness in his expression. Spencer didn't dare talk to Floyd either just in case he got a reply. He walked slowly down the remaining ten steps out of sight of the man and then settled Floyd down again. Spencer knew he was alive and also knew that Floyd needed help to heal quickly; he also wondered if Sam was still down here. Spencer thought that if Sam was he'd be able to hear his whimpering from somewhere, but there was nothing. For a few short breaths there was the sound of the officer leaving again and then a clunk of a door closing. It wasn't until then that Spencer spoke.

'What do you need me to do?' Spencer asked.

At first there was no reply but then a hand reached out almost blindly and grabbed hold of Spencer. 'My little hero.' Floyd's voice sounded bubbly and weak. 'I need somewhere dark. Take me to that room where Sam is. The door's busted already. We cant be locked in there.' And then his hand slipped away again.


	18. Chapter 18

18

Spencer lifted Floyd over his shoulder again. It never occurred to Reid that Floyd maybe could have walked, but Floyd rather liked the view of Reid's rear end as he bounced on his back.

It was obvious straight away that Sam wasn't there any longer. Reid kindly sat Floyd down in the chair and then did a quick sweep of the room with the flashlight. He especially was looking for signs of blood or a struggle of some kind but there didn't seem to be anything untoward. 'Sam's gone.' Spencer stated the obvious.

'I told him to stay.'

'Why would he Floyd? Why would he stay here and wait for something nasty to come and tear him apart? I'll go and check out the other rooms. He must be hiding. I cant see any signs here that something took him.'

Floyd slid down slightly on the chair and groaned. 'Well there was not really much of a sign before was there now? I need to be on the floor Spence. I need…'

Spencer cut him off as he stepped back in front of Floyd and placed a hand on his chest to stop him sliding further. 'And what exactly did you tell Sam? Give him some horror story about what would happen to him? Did you say you were coming back for him?'

Floyd feebly swiped at Spencer's hand. 'Fuck you Spencer. I've been shot. Are you going to help me out here or sit there and preach about what I should or shouldn't have said to some one you would rather was dead anyway? Help me onto the floor. I cant sit here.'

'And nor could Sam, evidently. Did you tell him you were returning?'

'Yes.' Floyd hissed.

Reid narrowed his eyes at Floyd. 'And did you intend to return for him?'

Floyd's eyes narrowed to match Reid's. 'No. I intended to leave him here.'

'Did you promise him you would return?'

'No. Now will you please get your fucking hands off me and let me lay down before I bleed to death.'

'So…' Spencer left his hand firmly on Floyd's chest. '… what you're saying is that you left Sam down here thinking he was going to die and he knew that?'

'I suspect he had a very good idea of his fate. Now let me heal.'

Reid removed his hand and stood back from Floyd. 'You are a heartless…'

'… cunt… yes I know what I am Spencer but it was him or you and you should be very glad that I chose you. I saved you didn't I?'

'Saved me? How exactly? I seem to be right back where we started, only now Sam seems to have disappeared and you don't seem to give a damn where he is.'

Floyd pushed up to stand in front of the chair and grabbed at Spencer by his shirt collar. 'You, you, Spencer had best be careful how you fucking well talk to me. I'm in no mood for one of your stupid displays of – of whatever it is you keep displaying; attitude. Your fucking attitude. I got shot for you. I got two fucking bullets in me and one of those is hurting somewhat. If you continue to push my buttons I'm going to push right back and my button pushing involves blood and tears. Don't you _ever_ forget that. Help me into a nice dark corner like a good boy and fucking well think before you try me with your very brave and foolish words. Don't let my injuries fool you buster. I'm quite capable of tearing your sodding head off your shoulders if I need to.' Floyd finished by dropping to his knees. 'And this isn't an offer.' He placed his hands on the floor and crawled slowly to a dark corner. 'Keep the shadows off me cos if I'm taken too then you'll be very much alone.'

Spencer let out a long sigh. 'I don't like Sam. That doesn't mean that I wanted to see him gone.'

'Liar.'

'No honestly Floyd I don't really like Sam.'

'That's not what I meant and you know it. Curl up with me and sleep. It will all look so much better when we've had a nice rest.'

Reid shook his head. 'I'm going to see if there's any sign of Sam. If he's still down here I'll find him and even though I dislike him I will bring him back to you. You might think that I'm unfeeling, but though I don't like Sam and though sometimes I really don't like you either, I still do love you and I know that you need Sam. I just don't know why you left him down here.'

There was no answer from Floyd. He'd gone into a deep hibernation leaving Spencer to decide what to do next. Floyd hadn't ordered him to stay in the room (except for telling him to keep the shadows back) and Spencer had made no promise not to, but somehow walking over the threshold of that doorway wasn't something he was going to do. Firstly Spencer checked the room just to doubly make sure that there was no sign that Sam had been in a struggle. Then he checked the floor for disturbances and this is when the horrible thought of what Sam had done slipped into Spencer's mind. The area around the manhole cover was very much disturbed. Reid could still hear the rushing of the water below it. If Sam had gone down there… Well Spencer didn't even want to think about what might have happened, but there was a good chance that Sam had heard the noise of the water and that was what had prompted him to leave the room. For a couple of hours Spencer sat on the opposite side of the room looking at Floyd's back. Then he moved in closer so that he could see easier the rise and fall of Floyd's shoulders as he breathed slowly; much too slowly for a normal person. There must have been sometimes up to five minutes between breaths, but this was all stuff Spencer had seen before. It didn't alarm him.

What Spencer found more alarming was though he was furiously angry with Floyd he ended up laying on the floor behind him. He felt Floyd doing to him what he'd done so many times to Floyd; he pushed back hard against Spencer. Reid wrapped his arms tightly around Floyd and kissed the back of a blood sodden neck. 'Please recover soon Floyd.'

There was an almost distant sigh from Floyd but that was all. At least Spencer assumed it was from Floyd. Reid was more than content to spend hours just holding tight. He tried to work out in his muddled mind whether it was because this is what he'd wanted to do or it if was because somehow Floyd had made him do it. He felt a strong repulsion for Sam, but he still began to feel a vague guilt that he wasn't looking for him beyond what he'd already done. Again the wondered if it was Floyd making him feel like that. He thought maybe it wasn't though. Floyd really didn't give a damn so why would he be trying to make Spencer feel bad about it? After all it wasn't Spencer who'd abandoned him alone down here. The guilt he thought was more that Floyd had left Sam here and come to him. For once the master came to the kicked dog… or had he merely called the dog back to heel?

Spencer made slow rocking movements against Floyd's back. It was something which he often did when feeling anxious about something. It was like a mother rocking an upset child. Floyd muttered something about it feeling good and Spencer muttered back that he wasn't doing it for Floyd; it was to comfort himself.

'Then comfort yourself properly.'

'This is all I need.'

'That's as maybe, but I need something more than a dry hump from my jealous boyfriend.'

It was just the thing to make Spencer unwrap his arms from Floyd and move back away from him. 'I wasn't. Why are you always so disgusting?'

'It wasn't me rubbing his hard hot cock on someone's buttocks.'

'I wasn't!' Spencer hissed back at Floyd.

'I know what I felt… and that was a hot hard ready and willing cock. Those blokes. What did they tell you about this place? Any clues where Sam might have gone?'

Spencer just shook his head and stayed silent. Once again Floyd had ruined what Spencer had thought was a sweet close moment. He was doing it more and more often. Floyd didn't seem to want that sort of closeness. He wanted to just take when he felt like it and then dangle Sam in front of him as though to say _I've had you… but this is better._

'Come on Spence babes. Did they tell you anything?'

'Something about a lake higher up in the hills or mountains which has a sluice gate. It drains through the hills I suppose and is used to flush out the sewers below this place. They also said they had a base camp. They're here to protect. They don't expect me to live and if I do get out of here alive and I report this mess to someone they will track me down… you know… the usual threats. The sort all bullies use.'

Floyd rolled over with a grunt and glared at Spencer. 'You calling me a bully?'

'I was talking about the soldiers not you, but if you think it suits you…'

'So where is Sam?'

'If I told you that I really hope he didn't exit via that manhole and try to escape that way – how will you react?'

Floyd glanced at the manhole cover and then at Spencer and then at the broken door. 'You think he went down there? In shit? This is Sam we're talking about.'

'Well can you use your super powers and sniff him out? Did he get taken? You'd sense that fear wouldn't you?'

'Normally I would. This isn't normal though. I need to sleep Spencer. Don't leave the room.'

'Great.'

Floyd pushed up onto his knees. 'I got fucking shot you mother fucker! You sat there and let it happen! Don't think I've not forgotten that.'

'I'm sure you'll be throwing that back at me for a long time to come, even though I could have done nothing to prevent it. You should have stayed with Sam. You should have protected him. Sleep if you need to. I'll just sit here and wonder what happened to Sam.'

'Don't fucking get mouthy with me! What did I tell you about your damned attitude? If I was not half dead I'd teach you a sodding lesson.'

Spencer smiled at Floyd. 'If you weren't half dead we'd not be having this conversation. Lay down and I'll keep you warm.'

'And Sam?'

'I don't know Floyd. I really don't know what to think. I'm just hoping that if he did go down there that he was out before the system flushed.'

'He cant swim.'

'I don't think that would have helped him.' Spencer moved slowly back to Floyd who'd slumped again onto the floor. 'Can you try to contact him?'

'Nope.' And then deep sleepy breathing returned.

o-o-o

Sam had in some respects been lucky and in others very unlucky. The water had swept him in a slight downwards direction for an unknown distance and an unknown time. He ended up slamming against a large metal grill which was set at the end of the tunnel he'd been walking down before the water ripped him away. He at least had something to hold onto now and as it was actually daylight outside he could see a large and complete nothingness. His first thought was that he'd been washed straight to hell, but that couldn't be correct. He'd been in hell to start with, so that place outside the grill must have been somewhere else. After the bulk of the water had passed over and around him and he was able to think a bit more clearly he decided that he didn't want to end his life holding onto the slime covered thing he had fingers and toes wrapped around. He looked more carefully. The opening looked to be part way up a high cliff face or maybe just a stony hill. The water exited and ran and squirted down into a lake at the bottom. Sam licked his lips and regretted it as he tasted the shit and other waste products which had stuck to his lips. He spat and spent an hour crying and feeling sorry for himself (and he felt he had very good reason to feel sorry for himself.) He plotted killing Floyd. He decided that he'd get a knife and slit his throat. Sam liked knives. He thought he might do the same to Spencer too, but he'd wait first and see if he could get Spencer to kill Floyd for him. After he was all cried out he pulled the flashlight out of his pants and had a careful look around to see if there was a way to get the grill off. He felt that there had to be. There must be a way to remove it for maintenance. He was of course correct. He smirked smugly to himself. It did mean picking sludge out from around the catches, but it was going to be possible if took his time and did it properly. Sam rushed it. He picked and scraped at it and cursed it and spat at it and cried some more. He cursed when he broke his fingernails and sat for a while with his back to the grill and wondered if he should try to go back again. The thought that he might get caught in a rush of stinking water decided him. He turned back and pulled and scraped and pushed until with his fingers bleeding he finally was able to push the grill open. It just seemed to sudden pop out and Sam very nearly followed it over the edge and down the rocky cliff side into the water bellow. He watched it fall. Sam saw it bounce and he heard the noise it made as it rattled against the rocks and then the splash as it hit the water.

'I'm out.' He whispered to himself. 'Now what? Climb down? Slip and drown anyway?' He turned his head to look upwards at how far and hard the climb would be. 'I'll go up. If I fall I will die anyway. I may as well die trying to go upwards.' So that's what he did. Slithering and sticky and wet, he slid out of the tunnel and very slowly and carefully found hand hold and then foothold as he pulled himself up with this hands and pushed with his feet. The only saving grace was that it wasn't raining; and that no one could smell him.

o-o-o

Floyd woke up before Spencer did. It was the flailing and shouting which pulled him back from the nice comfortable place he'd been in his head. Spencer woke up with a scream in his throat and gentle hands moving over his chest.

'Hey it's OK.' Floyd spoke as he placed a finger over Spencer's lips. 'Another nightmare. I thought you were over these.'

Reid just looked up at Floyd's face and wanted to let that scream out, not knowing if he was still in his nightmare or if he was actually awake. 'What?' It was the only thing he could think to say.

Floyd moved his finger away and rested it for a moment on the end of Reid's nose. 'I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but that look on your face… It sort of turns me on.'

'That was a look of fear.' Spencer told him.

'I know.' Floyd moved back away from Spencer slightly and sat up. The blood was caked and dried down his front and across his face. 'I was thinking that what we should do is go back up top and make sure those guys are not hanging around, then get our stuff and get the hell out of here.'

Spencer reached for the bottle of water, but offered it to Floyd first. 'And Sam?' He asked. 'And I still want to know what this place is and why this is happening. Why has nothing attacked us? What did it want with Sam? And I'll not have that excuse of reflections of fear in the atmosphere. Reflections don't tie someone to a chair with barbed wire. What was going on with that stone in the cell upstairs? Why were we safe in that first room we were in?'

Floyd took a swig of the water and handed it back again. 'Sam's gone. What the fuck do you want me to do about it? You should never have taken that fucking pebble. It wasn't yours to take. This is all your damned fault. I warned you. I said not to touch and the first thing you did was pick up the damned pebble. I'm not going on a sodding guilt trip over Sam because you chose to ignore my warning. You took something which didn't belong to you and in doing so and in taking it and holding it you unleashed the…'

Spencer frowned and shook his head. 'For once be honest with me. You said it was your pebble. Explain.'

Floyd slowly stood and stretched. 'I don't have to explain shit to you and if I did try to explain dimensional barriers and keeper stones you neither understand nor believe me. Just maybe sometimes you need to listen to what I say. Sam's gone because you did something stupid and next time it might be me who's gone. Yes I left Sam here. Maybe he got out via the sewers; I don't know and I'm not wading through shit to find him. If he's down there dead then there's little I can do to help him. If he got out then he will find us and catch up. There's nothing more we can do. If I'd brought him upside with me and not left him here what do you suppose would have happened… after Sam had likely exposed himself to those men with guns and offered his arse to them? No, please don't bother answering trying to tell me that things would have turned out OK and we'd be having a picnic in the sunshine right now because you fucking well know that's not what would have happened. He'd have had a bullet between his eyes and you'd have been the cause of that too. You ran away. After you said you'd stay. After you fucking promised you'd not run…'

Spencer stood listening to Floyd, turned and walked from the room, clutching his flashlight. He wasn't going to stand there and listen to Floyd placing the blame on him again.

Floyd followed Spencer. 'You should have gotten that damned door open. You should have protected Sam as much as you think I should have. I know you don't like him, but he's had a bad start in life. He's had poor role models. He's not a bad kid… but you're just a nasty jealous shit who doesn't care that some people have a bad time socialising. And really you should look at yourself before you condemn Sam. You're not so fucking perfect yourself are you? You only made it through high school because you had someone watching your back. You would have been beaten and raped on the roadside that time you ran away when your darling mother put you into care when you were a kid. If I'd not found you Spencer, you'd likely have been raped by some paedophile creep wandering the streets looking for fresh meat.'

It was then that Spencer swung round on Floyd. He wanted to hit out and howl uncharacteristic insults at Floyd, but he managed to stay calm at least for now. 'No, I wasn't picked up by a paedophile, I was picked up by you. And honestly Floyd I really wonder what you are and what really does turn you on because I know full well that you had your mind in the gutter that day. I know also full well that you like Sam because he looks and acts so young. What does that make you?'

'Are you calling me a fucking paedo?' Floyd actually seemed deeply offended by this.

'I know! You really think I'm that stupid don't you? I know what you are. I know you better than anyone.'

'I don't fuck kids.' His voice was a low whisper.

'Why not! You have sex with the dead. Where do you draw your line? You rape, murder, _eat_ people, and not necessarily in that order. What makes you stop at children? I really don't believe it's any moral thinking because you don't have any morals.'

Floyd's hands gripped around Spencer's throat. Reid felt thumbs pressing in and he could see that rising of colour in Floyd's face. 'There is nothing wrong with necrophilia.' Floyd snapped.

Spencer felt Floyd's hands tighten. 'What? You really believe that? You honestly think there's nothing wrong with it? Are you going to kill me Floyd because I've said something you don't like? Go on… do it. Get it over with.'

Floyd dropped his hands though, but shoved Spencer in the chest pushing him back a few paces. 'Sam's not real though. He's a genetically manipulated and created being for my use. That's all he is.'

Reid turned away from Floyd and started walking away again. 'And you chose someone who looks like a child. That about says it all for me Floyd. You're going to have to do better than that if you want me to understand what the hell is going on here. Your whole attitude towards me has changed and mine has changed towards you too. I'm no longer the kid. I'm too old for you Floyd. Go find Sam and leave me alone.'


	19. Chapter 19

19

The pair of them walked in silence back down passageways and up stairs until they reached the large room with the fireplace. It was dark out and cold but they both knew without having to consult each other that lighting the fire was not an option. They sat with backs against walls still in silence but with their backpacks at their feet. Sam's bag was left to one side for now. Floyd lit up a smoke and offered it to Spencer who took it and inhaled the filth into his lungs. 'You're going to be the death of me.' Spencer commented after a long coughing bout.

'No… I really don't think so.' Floyd paused to inhale his own smoke and then turned to look at Spencer. 'You do know that if Sam was dead that I'd feel it don't you? He's fine. I'm sure of it. If he went down into the sewers he either got out in time or survived it. He's part of me. I'd know if he was dead. I also know that he wont return here. Therefore if you want to find him we're going to have to go looking for him. I don't know how easy he'll be to track and if he doesn't know about this place having men watching it he might walk straight into them. He can survive out there, however not as well as I can. He will be cold, wet and afraid and I _do_ need to find him.'

'If he got out he might be in the building somewhere; locked in a room?'

Floyd blew smoke into Spencer's face. 'Nope. He's not here. We'd have heard him screaming by now. He's outside the perimeter. Now Spencer I know you don't like him, so you can stay here whilst I go have a quick look around in the morning. Have you eaten anything? Did those murdering cunts give you anything to eat?'

'I ate, yes, but I'm not staying here whilst you walk out and go looking for your doxy. I will come with you.'

'My doxy? Is that what you think he is?'

Reid now blew smoke back into Floyd's face. 'Every male is potentially your doxy.'

'Are you potential?'

'When I was twelve apparently. Now, no… no… I am a fool who chooses to follow you around because for some god forsaken reason I need you.'

That was a good enough reason for Floyd. Now what he wanted was a reason to get Spencer naked. He suggested that Reid got changed out of the things he was wearing on account that Spencer stank. Reid refused suggesting that it was Floyd's own stench that he could smell. They sat again for a while in silence. Reid trying to work out what exactly it _was_ he felt for Sam and Floyd wondering how to get Spencer over his sulk and then out of this clothes. He finally decided that chain smoking wasn't going to work. Floyd knelt in front of Spencer who was sitting in with his legs crossed in front of him.

'You know it would be easier if you knelt too.' Floyd suggested.

'What will be easier?'

'My weak attempt at seduction.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'Seduction?' He snorted a laugh. 'You think that kneeling there covered in dried blood and smelling like an abattoir is in any way or form seductive?' Reid did however move to kneel.

'So I'm going to ask you…' Floyd found that the only way to get Spencer undressed was to do it himself. He started with getting Reid to remove his jacket and then Floyd began to undo Spencer's shirt buttons. '…will you be my doxy?'

The hand got slapped away. 'You wish that I would be a prostitute? An immoral person?'

'Not in the slightest… I want you to be my mistress.'

'I'm a bloke.' Spencer began to undo the buttons on Floyd's waistcoat. 'This is quiet ruined you know. I'll never get the blood out of this.'

'But if you were a girl you'd be my doxy?'

'I am your partner as near damnit. Sam is the doxy. I've been made a cuckold by him…'

'…which I guess is why you have such a problem?'

'Being the cuckold is never the best thing to be. I don't wish him dead Floyd and you really should know me better than that, but I do wish he was back at college spreading his love somewhere other than between the two of us. My wish… it's for the pair of us to be recognised as a couple and for Sam to be somewhere else.'

'Because you're jealous. And because you think it makes me look like a pervert when I fuck him?' His comment was accompanied by Floyd shedding the waistcoat and shirt whilst Spencer worked on his own clothing.

'Because I don't want to be second.'

'Ah… And that's why you're doing that with your hands right now? Trying to prove that you've not forgotten those little tricks? Well you've proved it so now you can stop!' Floyd grabbed Spencer by the shoulders and pulled him closer. 'Spence I'm going to be a whimpering wriggling mess on the floor if you keep doing that.'

'This isn't a little trick Floyd…' He paused as he moved his hands to a different location making Floyd yelp in surprise. 'This is the little trick.' A smirk spread over Reid's face as Floyd wrapped his arms around him, placing one hand on the back of Reid's head so he couldn't suddenly back away. He let Spencer carry on teasing like a whore as his mouth pressed hard against Spencer's and his tongue did a long careful exploration of the inside of Reid's mouth. He managed to keep it going for maybe five minutes before he released Spencer's mouth and became that whimpering mess on the floor he'd predicted. Spencer then showed Floyd exactly why he needed to stay with him and stop wandering off with Sam and other young men. Spencer managed by using just his tongue and fingers to completely incapacitate Flanders who let out the traditional cries of…

'Oh fuck… fuck… don't stop…'

Relationships and maybe love cannot and should not be based on those little things you can do with your hands and mouth and Spencer was very aware of that. This wasn't how he wanted his life forever be. His intention was though, to pull Floyd back from where he'd drifted off to and get him back as he needed him. Reid also knew that this wasn't going to be a life of pain and misery. Further more he knew that he couldn't, or rather didn't want to live a life without Floyd. Whether that was because he was the typical kicked dog and didn't know better he was very unsure of. As Spencer pulled his clothing back on and Floyd laid back resting his head on his backpack, Spencer wondered what his life would have been like without Floyd involved. He knew he'd have been hideously bullied at school. He knew that the departure of his father and ensuing problems would have been more difficult to deal with. He knew that those times when his mother was in hospital for short stays and Spencer was left in children's homes and with foster carers that he wouldn't have had Floyd to fall back on and talk to. He snatched the cheroot from Floyd's mouth and threw it to the side.

'There's something I need to talk to you about.' He told Floyd.

'It's Ok. I know.'

Now Reid was confused. 'You know? You know what exactly?'

'Well there can only be one explanation, and I'm shocked but it's fine. We'll sort through it and stick through it together. You don't need to worry Spence. I'm not going to leave you. As long as it's mine obviously.'

More confusion entered Reid's mind. He had no idea what Floyd was going on about, but it wasn't what Spencer was going talk about, that was for certain. 'What do you mean? Stick through what?'

'It's obvious and I was a fool not to have picked up on it sooner. The mood swings, the jealous behaviour. The throwing up, sore nipples.'

'My _nipples_ are sore because you bit them.'

'Well there's that too, but it's OK.'

'What on earth did you think I was going to talk to you about?'

'You're pregnant aren't you? It really is the only reasonable answer.'

Spencer didn't for a few minutes know if Floyd was being serious or not. He stared at him with wide open eyes. He shook his head and kept the look of confusion on his face. 'Floyd?'

'Oh for fucks sake. It was a joke Spencer. And you really thought you'd understand Sam's quantum mech joke? Fucking hell babes.'

'I need to talk to you seriously about something. Why wont you ever let me. You turn everything into filth or you make a joke out of it. I need to ask you something.'

Floyd pulled Spencer down to lay next to him. He ran lazy fingers over Spencer's chewed chest. 'I'm listening. I promise not to interrupt with any banality or sexual comments. Go… fire away. I'm am all yours.'

'When my mother was still at home; when she began to get really ill… was it you who sent all that stuff in the post? Was it you who pushed Bennington on me? You never spoke openly to me about that… you acted as though you already knew what was going on, but I never discussed things with you.'

Floyd stopped his nipple fiddling and lay on his back with his hands resting on his own stomach. 'Any fool could see what was going on there. You wouldn't have listened to me. I know how much it was hurting you. I just wanted to remove some of the pressure by showing you the options available. Bennington's a good place Spencer. You did the right thing and please don't try to tell me that I coerced you to get your mother out of the way so I could have easier access to you. That's not what it was about. I researched the places. It was the best one. And before you go off on one at me I know you also researched them all. I know that. I'm not saying that you would have picked the wrong place. I just hated seeing you so fucking out of your mind about what was going on.'

'You came to my house that day. That very day they took her away.'

'To comfort you.'

'You should have told me that it was you who gave me that information. You might not have lied to me but you omitting information is as bad. I thought I'd made a clear focused choice.'

'Why are you asking me this now? What's it got to do with anything?'

'It's a trust thing Floyd. I want desperately to believe that Sam's not rotting in the sewers. I need to be able to put my full trust in you or there is no point in having a relationship.'

Floyd gave Spencer a glance. 'I'm going to go outside for a slash.' He stood and walked quickly from the room leaving Spencer laying with his head on his backpack. There was a gust of cold air and then the door slammed leaving Spencer in the dark except for the flashlight. Floyd was sick and tired of Spencer's moaning on about things in the past. Reid hadn't moaned at the time and Floyd couldn't see why he had to choose now to kick up a fuss about what amounted to nothing. He released his bladder over up the door and then sat on the steps and gave himself some much needed space and time to think about how to haul Spencer back in line again. He stared down at his knuckles and promised them that they would have some fun soon. Floyd could wait. He didn't want to have to drag a battered and resistant Spencer through the forest whilst they searched for Sam. He sat as the rain started again. He sat through the storm… Spencer didn't come out to look for him. Spencer sat inside waiting for Floyd to come back.

By the time the grey morning light seeped through the high narrow windows Spencer had convinced himself that Floyd had walked off and gone in search of Sam. This made Reid's dislike for Sam deepen even more and his distrust in Floyd reach an all new high. He sipped on some water, shouldered his backpack and pulled open the door to the outside. The sky was a blotchy grey. The ground was sodden and covered in puddles. Floyd was sitting on the top step with his head down. For a minute, maybe more Spencer just stood and looked at the drenched Floyd sitting there unmoving. He then dragged off the backpack again and threw it back into the room and splashed over to Floyd. Spencer didn't fancy sitting in the wet so he hunkered down next to him.

'I thought you'd gone to look for Sam.' Spencer muttered. Still Floyd didn't move. 'I thought you'd abandoned me.'

Floyd lifted his head and gave Spencer a sideways glance. 'You seem to be wrong yet again. You make a habit of assuming I'm going to do one thing when I've done another. You were right Spencer.'

That puzzled Reid. 'So you went to look for him?'

'No, no I didn't. If Sam is going to be searched for then we would do that together if you're still here. You were _right_ when you said there is no trust.' Floyd gave a small shrug. 'It's time that we went our separate ways. I wanted to get back something which I don't believe we ever had in the first place. It's not possible to rekindle something which never existed. I'll get you somewhere safe; out of the forest and then we part. You can go back to Agent Aaron Hotchner and get your kicks in the showers with him and I'll come back and look for Sam.' Floyd stood slowly with a painful sounding pop of the knees. 'I was quite sure yesterday that Sam was still alive. Now I'm not so sure. I've been calling out to him all night and there's nothing there. I need to find out what happened to him.' Floyd looked down at the top of Spencer's head and smirked.

Reid stayed hunkered down but licked his lips and blinked. 'I'll help you find Sam.' Spencer whispered. Floyd's smirk turned into a grin. 'I don't want you finding him… if he's…'

'Dead? Oh come on Spencer you might appear as the innocent young agent to some people, but I know you better than that. You've only offered to come find Sam so you can make sure he's dead. You just want to gloat.'

Spencer stood up so fast that it made the courtyard he was standing in spin. The expression of Floyd's face went from smug satisfaction back to a sad empty blank one. Reid grabbed Floyd's arm to keep his balance. 'I don't gloat!'

Floyd brushed Spencer's hand away from his arm. 'You do actually. It's irrelevant. I don't want you with me when I find Sam's body. I want to deal with it myself. I'll have to do certain things you see. I need to make sure he can return and maybe get him back some other time. He cant do that alone. He will need help.'

'I can help you.' Spencer whispered.

'I don't want your fucking help Spencer! I was given a choice. I chose you and now…' He shook his head. '… well I see that my decisions were foisted upon me by your actions and that's not how it's meant to be. I'll take you back and make sure you're safe and that's the end of it. You're dumped.'

Floyd then walked back into the building and still sodden picked up his own backpack and slung it over one shoulder.

This though wasn't how Spencer wanted things to be. What Spencer wanted was Floyd. And he could see now that his actions had been not wrong so much as foolhardy - thinking that Floyd would put up with him constantly saying that he had no trust in him. He had to change it. He had to get Floyd back on side again even if it meant maybe not being completely honest with him.

Spencer followed Floyd back into the room. He stood and watched as Floyd stood rubbing at his temples and then pushing his hair back behind his ears. 'You will really just let me go back to my life? After all you did to get me to come with you? You killed people to get my attention…'

That cutting off gesture which Floyd seemed to use so often. 'I killed no one. They killed themselves. And yes I will let you go. What's the point in dragging you behind me Spencer? There's absolutely no joy in feeling that you don't want to be with me.' Floyd lied. 'As I said, I'll take you somewhere safe and then return and look for Sam's body.'

'You are sure he's dead? You can feel it?'

'I'm not sure. I suspect. I'll come back and search the sewers and take him somewhere to… to clean him… to make him pure again.' Floyd let out a small groan.

Reid walked quickly to him. 'Then let me come with you. Let me help.'

'But you don't like Sam. You're _glad_ he's dead.' Floyd hissed. 'I'd rather go alone Spencer.' Floyd now rubbed at his eyes with his fingers. 'And it's somewhat personal. I don't want you there doing your happy dance when I find him. I want… I want to be alone in my grief. You can understand that cant you?'

Spencer could in a way understand it. 'But I want to help you.'

'No.' Floyd sighed. 'What you want is to be sure that I'm right and he's dead. What you _want_ is the satisfaction of seeing me grieving.' Again a bit of a lie. Floyd had no feeling at all that he'd be grieving in the slightest. He was in actuality very sure that Sam was still out there, and he was equally sure that even if he _had_ gone down the sewers that he was no longer down there. However, it was very worth getting a bit of shit on himself to see Spencer struggle with the stink and fear of being down those dark tunnels which occasionally filled with water. He almost wanted to laugh at the expression of sadness of Spencer's face, but he sniffed, wiped at his nose and let out a low moan instead.

Reid grasped Floyd around his shoulders and neck and pulled him in close. He didn't mind that Floyd was soaking wet from the rain. He just wanted to comfort the man he was sure that he loved, even if he didn't particularly like very much all the time. He rested a hand on the back of Floyd's head and Floyd rested his head on Spencer's chest. It was good. It concealed the big smile Floyd had on his face. It was going to be damned good fun seeing Spencer scared out of his mind. Floyd was going to enjoy this, pull Spencer back into place _and_ have Sam (in a very physical way) hopefully by the end of the day.

'It's been raining all night. I don't think the sewers are safe.' Spencer spoke into Floyd's ear. 'Can we find the exit point and work back from there?'

Floyd pushed Spencer back out of the way, turned and walked towards the door which led to the corridor full of closed doors. 'You don't think they're safe then you stay here. You either want to help or you don't. I'm going.' He opened the door and marched off down the echoing hallway. Spencer grabbed his bag and ran after him.

'I didn't mean that!' He called behind him. 'I will help you, of course I will help you, but if it's been raining and they open the sluice gates and if Sam was washed out of the drains…'

'Like a turd… like a bit of old mouldering rubbish… tipped out onto a midden. Fucking hell Spencer, you paint such a delightful picture of his end. Can you imagine how scared he was? What do you think his last thoughts were before that water hit him? How must it have felt… and you're worried you'll get your feet wet. Just make up your fucking mind what it is you want to do. I'm not here to babysit you Spencer.'

Reid paused in his run behind Floyd. 'I'm sorry!' He shouted out. 'I know you don't like that word but I'm sorry Floyd. I didn't mean it to sound like that. I'll help you.'

'And if I don't want your help?' Floyd was getting worried that Spencer would hear in his voice that he was grinning.

'Then you'll have to fight me off Floyd, because you have no options here. I'm going to be with you. You're still recovering from being shot. I cant leave you now. I cant. And I don't want to! I need to stay with you!'

'Why?' Floyd was walking down the stairs now trying not to break out into song.

'Because I love you damnit!' Spencer howled down the stairs at him.

Floyd didn't even break his stride. 'No you don't. If you did you'd trust me. You'd let me have my toys. You'd keep your hands off Hotchner.' Oh Floyd was enjoying this so much!

'I will! I will! I'm not going back to there. I'm here with you! You can have your fun, your toys, just please come back to me. I want to be the one you curl up with at night… I want you to still be there when I wake up in the morning.'

Now he was getting mushy and demanding. 'Help me with this manhole cover.' Floyd placed a hand over his mouth and bit down on his bottom lip to try to get the look of satisfaction off his face.

Floyd knew that he was the most beautiful man on the planet. He had no doubts about that. He also knew that Spencer would never find someone as understanding and _loving_ as he was – to match the good looks. Another thing which Floyd was aware of was that the more he pushed Spencer away the tighter he clung onto him. The more love and attention Floyd gave Sam the more Spencer needed Floyd. He knew this. Floyd knew this well and was going to play to Spencer's rules for a while. Would Spencer give his life for him though? He thought so. He was pretty sure of that, but maybe for his own peace of mind Floyd might have to test that theory. He had shown Spencer that he'd willingly (even if it wasn't) be shot for him… At the moment Spencer seemed quite composed. But Floyd had been telling the truth (for once) when he'd told Spencer that the look of fear on his face turned him on; rather a lot.

Floyd went down the slippery ladder first. Any sign that Sam had been here was washed away and it was impossible to tell by smell. Though this was a sewer there was the advantage that the place hadn't been used properly for maybe a few decades. The smell of human waste was actually not that bad – for now at least. It was stagnant water which Floyd sunk down to his knees into. Old river water and the slurry which had been dragged down here all the way from the lake further up the mountain. Floyd rested a hand on the side of the curved tunnel to feel for vibrations. He would love to see Spencer get swept away by a sudden rush of water. He'd get great pleasure from the rescue but he didn't want to be personally washed down to wherever this went. As far as he could tell there was nothing on its way, but that didn't mean that there wouldn't be. He looked up at Spencer and gave him a quick nod. 'It's safe as far as I can tell. Close up behind you. If those motherfuckers come back I want them to have to search a bit and not see right off the bat where we've gone.' Floyd very kindly supported Spencer by reaching up and holding on to his hips for him. It really wasn't that much of a help and Floyd thought it was more likely hindering Spencer but it gave him the chance to _accidentally_ squeeze Spencer's buttocks in each hand. 'Hurry Spence. I cant hold this for much longer and not experience a discomfort.' Reid again didn't say anything.

As Sam had decided when he arrived in this lovely place, they didn't walk along the ledge. Floyd took the lead with a flashlight, picking out the rats which went scurrying away quickly when the light caught them and he instructed Spencer, using his _seriously worried_ voice that Reid should keep one hand on the brickwork at all times.

'We need to know if there's more water heading our way. If what you said was right then you'll feel the vibrations in the wall.' He hoped that gave Spencer enough to worry about and he'd not notice the _almost_ spring he had in his step. Spencer complied with the request, though he did think that it would have been better for Floyd to be checking for vibrations as he was the one who liked people to think that was something he was particularly good at. He didn't want to argue with Floyd though. Not down here.


	20. Chapter 20

20

Sam was in the meantime having an adventure of his own. He'd climbed the rocks skilfully and had spent a night under the cover of a fallen tree. He didn't bother crying about his distress as there was no one there to witness it, but he would let anyone who found him see the _huge_ distress this incident had caused him. His first idea when he awoke with an aching back and a slight twitch in his fingers was to get high, but a quick scout of the area didn't reveal a secret stash of heroin or a field of poppies so he gave up on that idea pretty quickly. He then had to decide on a direction to go. There was, in Sam's mind, no hurry to find civilization; not when his clothes were sodden and smelling of sweat and shit. What he did do though was to decide that it would be well worth having a weapon of some kind to hand. He removed his wet shirt and ripped it into strips which he then plaited and knotted into a knobbly red rope of sorts. He managed to attach the pocket of the shirt to the end and with a bit of trial and error and a lot of swearing weighted it with a small rock. He intended to use it as a bola of types… or to swing around his head to keep unwanted visitors away from him and he even thought to practice with it for a little while. Sam looked up at the sky, judged with ghastly accuracy his direction and walked East. He would have carried on going North if he wasn't so pissed off with Floyd. He maybe would have gone back South, but he didn't want to be in direct opposition to Floyd either and he thought that Floyd would assume he'd gone that way and right now Sam didn't want to bump into Floyd and have to test his deadly weapon on him, and so it was East he walked squelching through the forest as birds sang in the trees.

'Zone ten, clear.'

The voice spoke from somewhere to his right. Sam's first instinct was to crouch down and listen. There was no other voice. No one seemed to answer that person, but he could hear someone walking off at a tangent to him. He wanted to call out and let the person know that he was here, but thought before he did that, that he'd get a better look at the person. Carefully and with spooky silence Sam began to follow. The man was easy to track. He didn't seem to be trying to disguise that fact that he was there. He was snapping twigs and occasionally swearing about something. It was about five minutes before Sam could see a man wearing camouflage trousers and jacket walking slightly ahead of him. Sam fingered his weapon and took a deep breath. He didn't know who this person was, but he had clean dry clothes on and Sam wanted them.

Sam had in the past had long painful lessons from Floyd on how to make the perfect silent kill. Sam went through the order of attack through his head. _Wait, ready, leap, snap._ It was that easy. At first it hadn't been. When Sam had made his first couple of attempts a long time ago he'd made a complete balls up of it and the victim had turned on Sam and mashed him to a pulp before Floyd stepped in and took over. When that had happened at first, Sam couldn't understand why Floyd left it until he was virtually dead before coming to his aid. Now he understood perfectly. Failure was very painful and could get you a black eye. There was no option but to do the job properly.

Sam moved quickly and silently so that he was in position in the path of the victim. He stood with his back to a tree and counted silently in his head. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his body, the tingling of his skin, his muscles getting ready. In his mind he was playing over in his head exactly what he would do. A crack of a twig. A rattling of something. A foot came into sight.

The man holding the automatic rifle didn't even know it had happened. Sam was on his back, one hand wrapped around the victim's face and one rested on his shoulder. A quick twist, a snap and Sam jumped back as the man slumped forwards into the leaves.

'Nice.' Sam muttered. It wasn't until he turned the man over that he saw that he had the gun, but it wasn't a problem. Sam threw it to the side and carried on searching. He found the radio which had been used to communicate. He found a very sharp knife, which Sam took. He found in the man's pack a few rations which Sam tossed to the side. He then stripped the man of this pants and jacket. He didn't want the boots or the hard hat the man had been wearing. Sam emptied out the pack and found a pack of smokes and a lighter which he was very happy with. The rest of the stuff was just thrown into the undergrowth. He did keep the radio though. The knife went into the jacket pocket which he slipped on. He pulled the pants over the top of his cycling shorts. The gun, Sam rather expertly dismantled and the bits were thrown hither and thither through the forest. He then dragged the body into cover, kicked leaves over it and left, still going generally East. It was also the direction the man had been walking. Had Sam not been feeling so full of himself he might have wondered who this soldier had been walking to meet or maybe even how many others there were and who he had been talking to on the radio. He might have wondered where the other zones were, but he didn't think any of this. He just kept on walking silently now with a bola and a knife to defend himself with. He was feeling pretty damned pleased with himself. The look of delight went from his face when the radio he had hooked onto his belt made a noise. That wouldn't do at all. He pulled it off and turned it over in his hands. Someone was trying to make contact and that someone was a person Sam didn't want to talk to. He turned a small circle looking now at the ground, walked over to a fallen tree, picked up a small rock and smashed the radio. It stopped making the noise and Sam kicked leaves and dirt over the broken remains, but now there was going to be someone looking for the missing person. Sam hadn't been thinking that far ahead. He'd never had to do that sort of thinking when he was out doing things with Floyd because he always had been in training as such and so took direction from him. He wondered if he'd made a mistake by killing the man and if he'd made an equally big mistake taking his clothes. Quickly Sam stripped off the pants and jacket again, thankful that he'd thought to keep on the cycling shorts. He _did_ want to keep the knife though. It was a pain but he'd have to deal with it. Sam wasn't going to let a little thing like this spoil his fun.

'Hey Jimmy – you there?' Someone called.

Sam was still crouched down next to the discarded clothing. Not a good place to be discovered. He moved quickly away dragging the things out of sight and stood quietly as he had done before with his back to a tree. He could feel his heart pounding. Hopefully there was just the two of them… but then the man had been in military uniform and had been carrying a big gun, so again maybe Sam thought wrong. He needed Floyd to look to and take instruction from, but Floyd wasn't there. Floyd had abandoned him. This was all Floyd's fault.

Again he heard the crunch of twigs under the feet of someone heading his way. Sam, this time, was going to use the knife.

o-o-o

Spencer rested his hand on the small ledge at the side of the tunnel. It was the first and only time he did that. Something scampered over his hand. Something which Spencer assumed rightly was a rat. He yelped, jumped to the side and slipped. The grip on his high tops not being the best for these conditions. He made a grab for Floyd how had spun at the sudden sound, but Floyd wasn't feeling helpful today and stepped back out of reach. He was grinning at Spencer's feet went out from under him and deposited him onto his backside in the stinking water. Again he reached out for help, and again Floyd avoided him. Spencer was sitting with the muck sloshing around his middle and dirty, foul water dripping off his face where he'd received a very nasty splash back.

'Help?' He asked Floyd.

The help wasn't what he'd really wanted though. Floyd stepped forwards still with a grin on his face and placed a foot of Spencer's shoulder, pushing him back.

'Beg me.' Floyd told Spencer. 'Get on your knees and beg me.' He moved his foot away. 'Quickly before I kick your stinking hide right under the filth.'

Reid didn't say anything back though. He manoeuvred carefully trying not to put his hands down into the unseen thick slime at the bottom of the tunnel and started to get to his feet.

'See, you don't need my help do you? You don't need my help and you don't need me.' Floyd turned and carried on walking. 'And keep your fucking hand on tunnel wall like I said.' He could hear the splashing and grunting sounds from Reid and his grin broadened. If Reid had seen that expression he would have been very afraid. Luckily for him he didn't. 'Do you think you could possibly move a bit faster Spence babes? I can feel this sort of tingling in my toes and I think Sam is up to no good.'

'Your toes must be tingling constantly.' Spencer remarked as he tried to jog behind Floyd who had suddenly started to move much faster. A speed which Spencer didn't know he could keep up and not fall on his face.

'Don't get mouthy with me Spencer. Just don't do it. There's light up ahead. We've not found a bloated or half chewed corpse so I think I can be quite smug in saying that I was right and Sam's not down here.

Spencer couldn't see light, but Floyd was shining the flashlight straight ahead. 'Can you slow slightly?' He asked as he slipped on something again. 'I'm not used to this…'

'And I am?' Again Floyd stopped and turned. 'You're implying that I find running down ancient sewers familiar?'

'No. I was remarking on your incredible ability to run and keep your balance.'

Floyd jabbed Spencer in the chest. 'You're only with me because you wanted to be. I never asked you to come down here with me, so don't fucking complain. If you cant keep up, you'll be left behind.' He moved his hand up to Spencer's face. 'That's something you just never learnt wasn't it? Sam you see has learnt that lesson. You've got such a slow learning curve considering that you're a genius.' Floyd took a minute to drag a cheroot out of his pocket and light up. 'He used to moan at me that people took advantage of him. They saw him as pretty, young and vulnerable. Those paedophiles out there… like you accused me of being; remember saying that? Well I assume that it was paedophiles as you've pointed out that Sam looks like a kid, but… I've lost track of what I was going to say.' He took a deep drag from the smoke. 'Yes, well he complained… _Floyd, why do people do those things to me? Why am I constantly a victim?_ And do you know what I said to him?' Floyd waited for an answer.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders slightly. 'There's no predicting the loving parental advice you would give Sam.' Spencer said. He was suddenly feeling bitter and annoyed again. He didn't want to be discussing Sam.

'I told him that if he couldn't run fast enough, then he deserved to be caught. You cant live that sort of life and not be able to. If you do get caught then it's your own fucking fault. You know it really bugs me how people complain that they got mugged or beaten or forced to do something. If you stand there asking for it then you deserve all you get. Parents should either take better care of their wards and kids or they should do what I did and learn how to run fucking fast. You get what I'm saying?'

'You're saying that children who get abused deserve it.'

'No Spencer. I'm saying that kids who ask for it and then cant run fast enough when what they ask for isn't what they expected deserve it. You don't enter a race and not prepare for it do you? If you're a kid dressed as a slut and you get raped because you couldn't get away then you've entered a marathon without going into training. It's not the fault of the person who catches up with you now is it? Does a runner expect the others in the race not to pass and get to the finish line first just because they want to win but are too lazy to prepare?'

'It's hardly the same thing.'

'It's totally the same fucking thing! Now keep up or get left behind. That's what I'm saying. Sam moves fast. I move fast. I'm not going to lose Sam because you failed to prepare.' Floyd paused. 'But then you never like to be prepared do you?' He smirked and took Spencer's hand. 'Come on… I'll help you but you've got to hurry. We're nearly there.'

For the next half hour Floyd virtually dragged Spencer through the tunnel. He could see the opening getting bigger and that was their way out and likely the way Sam had gone. Floyd was still hoping that Sam had gotten out before the water hit, but wasn't going to hold his hopes up too high until they reached that exit. If Sam had done the sensible thing and the thing Floyd had taught him to do then Sam would have left a mark of some type to let them know; not that he had back at the building… the only reason they thought Sam had come this way was disturbed dirt on the floor by the drain and maybe if they'd looked in other rooms they might have discovered Sam had looked and then hidden somewhere else.

They stood in front of the opening with daylight streaming through and looked down. The opening was about the size of the manhole they'd come down.

'Shit.' Floyd said. 'If he got caught and was swept out of there…'

Spencer was shining the flashlight around the metal rim which circled the opening. 'I don't think he did.' Spencer commented.

'If the water caught him…'

'If the water caught him or not, he didn't fall down there. At least not with the force of the water.'

'And you know this how?' Floyd was still looking down at the rocks and the lake below. The rocky cliff face the opening was in had a covering of brown and green slime over it.

'Well…' Spencer could see what he thought was obvious and got ready to be the one to give the lesson for a change. 'Look at the rim.' Floyd looked at it and reached up to run his fingers over it. Spencer placed a hand over Floyd's. 'Don't touch it… Just look at it.'

'You telling me what to do?' Floyd snapped and snatched his hand away from Spencer.

'No, but if you touch you will spoil the evidence. Just look at the rim, Floyd. Someone forced the catches from the inside. See how they've been pulled back? And that looks like a smear of blood, probably from trying to get rusty metal to move.'

Floyd shone his own light where Spencer was indicating. 'I see. So he arrived here and couldn't get out and then forced a cover off this… there was something covering the hole.'

'Exactly. If it had happened too long ago it would have rusted over again. If it had happened before all of that water rushed through here there would be muck stuck to those catches, but they're clean. Freshly opened.'

'So he arrived here, removed the cover, which was likely a grill type cover and then climbed down there.' Floyd pointed.

Spencer stuck his head out of the opening and looked down and then wiggled around and looked upwards. 'I'd think, if I was him that I'm climb up. The rock face isn't so fouled. It would be easier to climb, and as you said he couldn't swim, why would he climb down to a lake?'

'He likely wouldn't. He would try to get away from it. So upwards it is. You go first.'

Reid looked horrified. He couldn't climb that and he was very sure of that fact. 'I'm not going to be able to. The best thing would be for us to go back to the building and track back to here.' Spencer tried to keep up the authority in his voice but he felt it was failing slightly.

'No, we are trailing Sam and as you say, Sam went up there.' Floyd pointed. 'So if a little drug addict slut who has a passion for quantum mechanics can do it so can you, and obviously I can too.'

'And what will happen if I fall?'

'You'll get wet, so make sure you don't huh? Out you go boy and start making your way up. I'm sure that it cant have been that hard to do or Sam wouldn't have attempted it. But he must have because if he pushed out the grill and he didn't go down, he must have gone up. Makes perfect sense to me. What are you waiting for babes? Move on out… hup, hup. I really do so much promise not to grope you as I climb below you, but you have to promise that if you fall you want make a grab for me and drag me down there too. I am, after all, still recovering from being shot. Which was your fault too.'

Was there a point in trying to argue with Floyd about that? No… there was no point and so he sat on the edge of the circular hole with his back facing outwards and slowly contorted his body through the hole so that he was standing. It really wasn't that high that he had to climb from here, and there seemed to be a lot of foot and hand holds, but that wasn't what was bothering Spencer; it was what would happen if he slipped that was bothering him. It was a very long way down if he fell and he had doubts he'd survive it.

'Don't just stand there Spencer! Get a move on!' Floyd stroked a hand down Spencer's inner leg and got the result he thought he would. Spencer started to climb quickly. Floyd's promise not to grope had been broken already, though Floyd was thinking that Spencer hadn't started to climb yet so it didn't actually count.

The rock face wasn't sheer. It wasn't actually as difficult as it looked as though it would be. Spencer found hand and foot holds easily, but that didn't take away the fact that if he slipped he'd plunge to his doom. Spencer wasn't a great outdoors man. He was a city man. Even though Floyd kept dragging him out to forests he still wasn't at home here the way Floyd was. He'd never been into sports or been thrilled at the prospect of a camping vacation, but he still managed better than he thought he would. Floyd scrabbled up as easily as though he'd been walking on a flat surface. It annoyed Floyd that all the times he'd taken Spencer of lovely trips to the woodlands and forests that he still wasn't very good at this sort of thing. He decided that when they got back to the city he'd book Spencer into a course on climbing. It might be fun, though Floyd doubted it… He thought he'd just find it immensely frustrating, but it could be useful in the future. It was only about ten foot they had to climb and it still took Spencer nearly half an hour to climb it.

'Hurry the fuck up!' Floyd shouted from below him. He could have just climbed past him but he didn't; he looked at the struggling scrabbling Spencer and sighed.

'I don't want to make a mistake.' He called back.

'You wont! I wont let you. Just keep going.' How one person could be so inept Floyd didn't know. Spencer was being painfully slow, but at least he didn't go flying past him to his watery doom. Floyd watched Reid pull himself over the top of the ledge and carried on climbing almost lazily – he could have gone much faster at this point now that Reid was out of the way, but he didn't. Floyd took his time and once at the top and sitting on the grass he gave Spencer a small smile. 'You did good.' He told him. 'I thought I was going to have to save your life again.'

Spencer rubbed at his hands and then pulled off his wet footwear and rubbed at his feet. 'So which way did Sam go from here, assuming he came this way?'

Floyd looked around and then pointed. 'That way. He went East.'

'You seem very sure of that. Why not north?'

'Because north is back down the thing we just climbed up. South is back the way we originally came and he'd not go that way. West?' Floyd finished with a question.

'Why not west?'

'Because that's left and Sam would have… gone in the direction which he'd naturally lead from. When he fights he leads with his left, though it seems he writes with either hand, he steps with his right first and he would see better with that eye problem he seems to have.'

They seemed like logical reasons to Spencer but it was still a guess. 'And if he didn't want you following him?'

'Sam second guesses everything. He'd know I'd think East and so he'd go West for that reason, however as I said he'd second guess me and assume I'd think he'd gone the opposite way to expected and would go the way he first decided. Now that might just mean that he'd go South, but I really don't think he'd walk back the way we came.'

Spencer nodded and pulled his boots back on again. 'I was hoping he'd be up here waiting.'

'No, Spencer you weren't. You are hoping that he's dead. Be honest. The last thing you want right now is for Sam and I to have a happy reunion. You want him gone. Well he _has_ gone for now, so make the most of it.' Floyd pulled a silver hip flask out of his backpack and offered it to Spencer. 'Whiskey.' He told him.

'I thought you'd turned to red wine.' Spencer shook his head at the flask.

'And I told you that you'd torn my upgrade to shreds.' He un-stoppered the flask and took a long deep drink. 'And the wine is all gone. So what now? Go find Sam?'

Spencer stood up. He knew that was what they were going to do. What was Floyd offering him a choice for? 'We should go. He's been alone out here over night. How are you feeling?'

'I'm feeling tired, Spencer. I'm tired…' He stood and stretched, 'but apart from that I think I'm going to be fine. The wounds are all but healed, but I've a dreadful pain in my chest, which I think has something to do with Sam. We should go now or there'll be no point.'

Reid wanted to ask what sort of pain and why Floyd thought it had something to do with Sam, but he refused to discuss Sam further. He didn't want to get into a conversation about him. He was hoping that Sam had gone in the other direction. He was also hoping that the pain Floyd was feeling was to do with having been shot in the chest the day before and had nothing to do with Sam. He hated the idea that Floyd could sense Sam in such a way. He also wondered if Floyd could sense _his_ pain.

'I was shot.' Spencer suddenly said. 'In the leg. Last year.'

'Uh hu.' Floyd replied.

'I thought you'd come home when that happened.'

'I didn't know it'd happened Spence. I'm not a mind reader.'

'Well you are actually. But I was hoping that when I woke up after surgery that you'd be there or would have sent a message. I was going to ask Hotch if you'd contacted him, but didn't. I knew he'd not pass on news like that to me. But I was thinking that you can feel Sam's pain and not mine.' He cursed under his breath for mentioning Sam when he'd been trying to avoid it.

Floyd took Spencer by the hand and pulled him to a stop. 'Spencer, Sam and I have a very special bond. It's not like us. You're just _you_… if you know what I mean. You're not special. Well you _are_ special but in a different sort of way. I didn't know you'd been shot. Now I knew about that business with Hankel, but he'd used those protections you see? I couldn't get close. Fucking fish hearts and livers… what a totally bastard. But I would have helped if I could have.' Floyd shrugged. 'I couldn't even fucking close. I was observing though. But I had no idea about the shooting, but really your life wasn't at risk now was it? I feel that Sam's might be. He's hyped up but injured.'


	21. Chapter 21

21

They found the first body about an hour later. Floyd had spotted the drag marks on the ground, but he'd been sniffing out the body for about a quarter of an hour. Spencer and Floyd crouched down and looked at it. The body had been mostly stripped of clothing, but it still had on a Tshirt and a hard hat. The neck was obviously broken.

'A quick kill. This was Sam.' Floyd ran fingers over the neck of the corpse. 'This confirms that I got the direction right at least.'

'A broken neck doesn't prove it was Sam.' Spencer reasoned.

'Doesn't prove it, but I know. He's followed all the basic first rules. He's not hung around. Killed, taken what he needed and left. Though I would be disappointed if he's taken a gun with him and if he's followed the rules he'd have quickly dismantled it and scattered the bits. He's kept what was left of his own clothing on, unless he took it with him, however it's more likely that he dressed over the top of what he had. We need to carry on and see what else we can find.'

'Floyd, we cant just leave this man here.' Spencer stood and looked down at Floyd.

'Well I didn't bring entrenching tools with me babes, and we cant take him with us. We will leave him. His own men will find him eventually. I just hope they don't find Sam wandering around in nicked gear before they do. He'd have some explaining to do.'

So reluctantly Spencer agreed to leave the man. He didn't like it. It was his job to track down people who did this sort of thing and the situation was making him feel very uncomfortable, knowing that Sam was the UnSub in this case. He tried to tell himself that Sam must have done this in self defence, but for a very real reason he doubted it. He'd seen kills like this before. He'd seen Floyd do this sort of thing. It made Spencer feel queasy inside and reminded him that he was walking through a forest with a serial killer who somehow (occasionally with his help) got away with – quite literally – murder. The next body Floyd found easily. It had a slashed throat. This was against the rules and Floyd took out his anger with Sam firstly on the body and then on Spencer.

'If you'd climbed faster we'd have gotten here sooner and could have stopped this.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'You really believe that? You're blaming what Sam has done on me?' He sounded utterly incredulous. 'If you really think that is the case we should move now and catch up before we find another. We cant let Sam wander through the forest killing innocent people Floyd. I'd imagine that man didn't know what was coming either. Sam stood out behind him and cut the man's throat. This isn't self defence and you know that.'

In Floyd's eyes the man was far from innocent. 'These people tried to kill me. They left you for dead. Actually they left Sam for dead too. They shot me. How in the name of fuck do you get the idea that his fucking bastard is innocent?' He prodded Spencer in the chest. 'They are murdering sons of whores who deserve what Sam's doing to them. If I find more, then good; I'm glad. Two people I don't have to tear apart with my bare hands.' Spencer slapped the prodding finger away. He shouldn't have and as soon as he'd done it he knew that it was a mistake, but mistakes seemed to be made a lot when it came to Spencer and Floyd. Always Spencer's fault and Spencer knew that. The fist caught him under his chin, smacking him off his feet and into the undergrowth. He landed on the clothes Sam had discarded, next to the smashed radio. Floyd then went on a kicking and biting rampage and Spencer attempted to fend him off, and he was doing quite well. What he didn't do was to hit back though.

'Floyd stop!' Spencer managed to say. 'We need to find Sam.' Try to keep him on task.

'Don't you ever fucking hit me again!' Floyd spat back at Reid. 'If I want to make a point by prodding you then you'll fucking well let me.' Floyd frowned and crouched down next to Spencer. 'My god you're beautiful. Turn over.'

Reid shook his head. 'We don't have time and this isn't the most romantic place you could choose. We have to find Sam. You said you had chest pains and it had something to do with Sam. Any clues?' Again Sam was the last person Spencer wanted to discuss but it seemed that events had taken hold now and he was going to have to. He wiped blood from his nose and carefully felt his ribs. He didn't think anything was broken this time.

'He had a knife. Maybe he was injured.'

Spencer had a flash of the image of Sam being impaled on a sword and that image felt wondrous, but he didn't think it was going to have happened. Mostly because these men didn't carry swords.

'Not here.' Floyd sat down next to Spencer and looked around. 'He took the man's radio, and somehow the guy was following the trail of his comrade, but Sam now has destroyed the communication. He might think that there were just the two of them. He will bite off more than he can chew. He thinks he's capable and he's not, though evidence might be telling you otherwise. When you kill you have to take everything into consideration. You should know _everything_. Your escape routes. Your enemy. Your targets. If you walk into a room of men with guns you don't go skipping over and break a neck. You wont get out alive. Now I might have shown Sam how to make a kill and how to dispose of the body, but I've never really gone much into the planning of it. He's never had to think that way and he's going to make a big mistake. These people aren't amateurs Spencer, these are professional killers and he's going to meet his match pretty soon. Are you OK to carry on?'

Reid wanted to say that he wasn't. He wanted to say that he really could do with a day and night to recover from the kicking he just took but he didn't. He wiped at the blood and nodded. 'I shouldn't be assisting. It feels wrong.'

'Assisting? Explain.' Floyd stood and put out his hand for Spencer to use to get up again.

'I know what these people did was wrong. I know what they did to you and then to me… I know that they didn't even bother to look for Sam, but it still feels wrong looking for Sam to _rescue_ him from them. It should be the other way around. Do you see what I mean? Sam is the one picking them off one by one.'

'I see. I really do see what you're saying, however you're not working for that shit Hotchner and you're not being paid shit loads of dosh. You are assisting me in getting Sam back. Sam who you owe as I left him there so I could go get you. It didn't quite work out as I wanted it to but that's beside the point really. You still owe him. Come on.' Floyd moved down to help Spencer back to his feet again and unwittingly Spencer flinched away. 'What's wrong now? Scared I'll hit you?' Floyd smiled at Spencer with a weird expression almost as though he'd just lost his marbles. 'You know I'd never hurt you. How many times do I have to say that? At least not for no reason.' He added.

They began walking again. Floyd was certainly walking faster now. He did however occasionally crouch down to touch the ground or he'd stand still with a hand raised, which Spencer rightly knew, meant to stand still and be quiet. It was nearly half an hour later that they found two corpses laying spread out in a small clearing. There was the sort of scene which Spencer would normally have attributed to Floyd and had he not been with him since the night before he'd have automatically suspected that this was the work of Floyd. Both men had been torn apart. The throats were ripped out and chest cavities were caved in. One of them had his eyes removed whereas the other had his face mashed with a rock which was still resting where the man's face had been. Floyd said nothing, but stood staring at the mess. Spencer closed his eyes trying to remove the horrendous visual from his memory.

'Sam.' Floyd muttered. 'What in the name of living fuck are you up to? This is inexcusable.'

Spencer turned from the bodies and threw up in the undergrowth. He'd seen worse before, but this was done by Sam. The person they were looking for to rescue. This wasn't a weak vulnerable child doing this. Floyd rested a hand on Spencer's back as he spat out bits from his mouth and wiped at his sweaty face with his fingers. 'I never thought…'

'That he was capable? He's my spawn Spencer. He's not fully trained. This started, very probably as self defence. I don't doubt that the first kill was done because he was scared. This though? This is not something I'd have expected from him. I knew that he _could_ do this, but I'm as shocked as you that he _did_ do this. I'm going to have to teach Sam a painful lesson when we catch up with him. He's not used a knife here. This was his hands he did this with. If Sam's lost his control then we're going to find more like this before we find Sam. You going to be OK?'

'No… actually I'm not going to be OK. What are we doing Floyd?'

'Well…' Floyd pulled out one of his cheroots and lit up. '…really it started out as me looking for Sam. Now I think he's changed my objectives slightly. We need to find him and stop him. It's more like we are rescuing these poor poons than rescuing Sam. We need to keep going babes.'

'They will find their men. They will come looking for who did it. They _will_ find us blundering through the forest. I'm not prepared to die for something Sam has done, Floyd. I'm sorry. I'm not going to defend him. I cant defend this.'

Floyd nodded. 'I understand how you feel, but if I can get Sam back and teach him…'

'Teach him? What are you going to do? Put him in psychopath rehab?'

'No, because I've been there and they don't work. I suppose I'll have to end it. Or…'

'The justice system will deal with him. I'm _not_ going to pat him on the head and tell him he's a naughty boy. Fine I can maybe understand that he was scared and alone and he attacked someone in self defence, but Floyd this is the act of someone who has lost his mind. He's ripped those two men apart. Two trained military men. How the hell did he manage that?'

Floyd shrugged. 'I taught him how to do that. That doesn't mean he was meant to wander through here and just kill anything he saw. I have to sadly agree with you that he's lost his pretty little mind, however I need you to let me be the one to punish him for this. You really cant expect me to hand him over to someone. This is assuming that he's not been picked up already, though I've not heard gunfire. I do think we will.'

'One psychopath to punish another. Wonderful idea. What will you do to him?'

'Kill him probably. If he's out of control then that's the only answer. If he's become dangerous then he's a threat to me. I'll not have that. He's also a threat to you.'

Spencer rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips. 'We are both going to die.' Spencer told him. 'There's no other direction I can see this mess going in. We cannot rescue him, Floyd. Either he's having a psychotic episode, in which case we are both going to end up like those two, or he's been caught and we will be shot on sight.'

Floyd let out a long deep sigh. 'Very well. I understand what you're saying Spence. Go back. Go back South. Walk and keep walking. Find somewhere to make a call from. Call a cab or call Hotchner… it's fine. I'll deal with this myself. I'll find Sam and sort things out here. You don't have to be involved.' This of course was the opposite of what Floyd really wanted Spencer to do. He knew Spencer wouldn't just walk away.

'I've been on many a case where we see the UnSub devolving, but I've never seen anything as rapid as this. He _will_ have to be held accountable for this, Floyd. You cant think, I hope, that we can somehow get him away from these men or from this situation and things to carry on as though it's not happened. He needs help.'

'He _needs_ a fucking lobotomy. I'm not stupid Spencer. I can see what's happening here. The outcome wont be sweet. And for the record I _did_ tell you both that we were entering hell. I remember clearly saying that. I didn't want to go into that place. And so again I'm going to have to blame you for all of this. Sam obviously is bonkers. You are a sodding Fed. You should have known better. I trusted that you'd make the right decision as my brain was a bit foggy at the time, and you failed me. You failed Sam. Happy now?'

Spencer didn't reply. Floyd didn't even know if Spencer had been listening to him. Reid re-shouldered his pack and started walking again. There was no point in talking to Floyd about this. The man was, as always, unreasonable and very deluded. On the other hand Spencer was beginning to feel a deep and dreadful guilt. He knew that when they'd been walking down that road that Floyd kept trying to leave the path and he'd put it down to Floyd not being able to see properly, but now he thought he knew differently. Floyd had also told them to keep going North and he'd sort of given reasons for that too, and again Spencer had ignored him. He let out a groan and scratched at the back of his neck but kept walking. Was he happy now? That was the question Floyd had asked him and he could honestly answer that he wasn't. However he wasn't going to give Floyd that satisfaction. They walked in silence. Spencer keeping quiet because he didn't want to say what he was thinking and Floyd was keeping quiet as he listened out for things which might indicate where Sam had gone. They walked down an animal track. Obviously people had walked down here too. There were boot prints in the wet earth in places and Floyd had spotted a couple of discarded cigarette butts. He didn't point them out to Reid. Sam didn't have anything on him to smoke, but he might have taken something from one of the bodies, but those boot prints were not Sam. Oh he could see where Sam had been though. Again he didn't point out the occasional indent of bare feet over treading the marks left by boots. Sam was following someone and they were following Sam and Floyd knew that they were going to find another body soon. He could smell it. He could at least pick up on the tang of blood.

'Spencer…' Floyd hissed and pulled on Reid's pack. 'Hold up a second.' Floyd crouched down and was looking at something in the brambles at the edge of the path.

Reid hunkered down next to him. 'What is it?'

Floyd picked up a stick and prodded at something. 'You know, I assume, that the human heart is the hardest part of the human body to burn. It's where the tradition comes from to eat it. It's better you see? You remove the incriminating evidence and devour it and then you can dispose of the body happy that the heart… Well anyway…' He prodded it again. '… it's tough to eat too. The heart muscle is incredible. It pumps your blood around your body… it's were your life starts and ends. To remove it is ritualistic as well as practical. When you kill…' He paused and looked at Spencer who was staring at the thing Floyd was prodding. 'When I kill I like to remove the heart and liver. The heart is the life force. By eating it you take that person into your own and they become a part of you. By removing the liver you take the place where the soul resides. With no soul that person cant move on. They will wander forever not being able to get to where they want to… be that a good or a bad place. For me it would prevent me from returning… for you it will prevent you from being reincarnated, or whatever it is you believe in.'

'Well it's not reincarnation. Why are you telling me this? What is that?'

'You should believe in it Spencer.' Floyd smiled a toothy smile. 'Oh you really should believe in it. It's the essence of my existence; the reason I do what I do. Never the less… this here is a partially eaten human heart. I wont pick it up because I don't want you to vomit on my head, but Sam's sucked it dry and chewed it around the edges. This babes, is worrying. If he'd removed them and discarded them then that's just something to spook the enemy, however he's gone a step further and removed them for a reason. He's still trying to be more than what he is Spencer. This might well work for me, or even for you if you were so inclined to change your career to cannibal, but for Sam? Well it's not going to make an iota of difference and he's going to know. I suspect he sort of knew when he did that second kill. He's taken on a challenge. A bit like Pinocchio wanting to be a real boy. Sam's strings have been cut and he's out on his own, but I need to find him and haul him back in and hammer him to a bookcase so he cant escape and have long words with him.'

All Reid could think to say was… 'Bookcase?'

'A fine bookcase, well made with that feel that hundreds of hands have brushed over the surface. Dark leather bound books, probably law books… maybe demonology… I can see it so clearly with Sam nailed through his hands and knees and probably through his shoulders. A wondrous sight to behold.' Floyd licked his lips. 'I need to invest in a good sized bookcase.' Floyd turned to face Spencer. 'You can understand that cant you? Can you see the justice in that? It's making my head spin with excitement. On the other hand I could just pull down his soggy piss laden pants and spank him. Which do you consider would teach him?'

Reid stood. 'We need to find him.'

Floyd nodded and stood, dropping the stick and partially eaten bit of heart. 'And when we get back to your place first thing to look for will be a bookcase. We should invest in another property though. I don't think I could live in that huge white monstrosity. It was one of the most vulgar builds I've ever seen. How the hell did it get planning permission? Ah! Spencer! I have such a wonderful idea. We can pull it down and rebuild. That's assuming you want a new build, I'm not so sure and I tend to over do size when buying. But can you imagine a big country mansion filled only with things we both love? Oh and Sam too… locked in chains in the basement. We could get people to pay money to see the monster. HA! Yes!'

'Ha, no.' Spencer replied. 'You've opened a floodgate of questions I need to ask you, but now's not the time or place. We need to find Sam and we need to stay alive.'

'And what part of that wasn't a brilliant idea?'

'I think it went awry when you mentioned a bookcase. Can we carry on now? Not that I'm in any rush to race to my almost certain death, but I don't want to find more human body parts. We need to stop him.' So there it was. Reid was hauled back again by Floyd who had himself some questions and here and now seemed like a very good time and place to ask them.

'Stop Sam.' Floyd repeated what Spencer had said and got a nervous nod. 'No, babes – you've got you Fed head on. What we need to do is to stop those bastards from hurting my boy. That's the reason we are following Sam. Not to stop him. That makes Sam appear to be the one in the wrong here Spence, and it's not him… it's them… those cunts wandering around the forest trying to force their will on other people. They're the ones. Not Sam. Don't you make him out to be the bad guy here Spencer.'

Reid shook his head in puzzlement. 'OK… Floyd I know that Sam is special. I know that and I accept your reasoning for what's going on here but if you've trained Sam to kill, and if Sam can kill this easily then it's Sam we have to stop to protect the others. To protect the general population I would think. Example; we leave Sam to carry on doing this… this _thing_ and he manages some how to kill them in their entirety, what next? Does that mean he's completed his task? Will he then go find someone else?'

'Almost certainly. Indeed. He'll carry on until he's secure in his mind that he will reach that which he started out trying to reach. He's going to attempt to sacrifice souls and achieve his own salvation. Now… it's not going to happen as I explained previously. It cant happen. The boy has no soul. If you removed his liver you'd be able to tell. It wouldn't look any different, but it would just be a bit of dead meat, not a soul. I'd be able to tell that much at least. This does not mean that Sam is evil. It means that he is a victim of circumstances which are beyond – oh way beyond his control. He's out of his tiny but very pretty and nicely shaped skull. The lack of food, the blood loss, the syphilis… and now this infantile behaviour which I'd normally only expect from you… this all brings me to understand that his mental state has deteriorated to a point that I don't think I'm going to be able to help him. So what we are going to do is not to actually Stop Sam, but we are going to do what would be known as _a recovery_ and I personally know a lot about how that works. He might if he keeps his mind on track enough even be given a chance at what he's after, but it wont be floating in the clouds as a fucking butterfly… it will be living amongst the deepest dregs of hell Spencer. The very deepest darkest pits… and he will be put on trial and he'll have to do certain things to prove himself. It's a long and usually deadly process. He's too young and he'd not survive. So what we are going to do is collect Sam up. Tie his hands securely behind his back and take him to that bookcase I spoke of earlier. Have you got your phone on you? Can you source antiquities on it? Google Bookcases, sixteenth century, for sale or something?'

'I've not got my phone Floyd. And if I did I'd not be going on Google looking for something for you to nail Sam to. We need to keep going.' Reid turned and started to walk on through the forest.

o-o-o

Sam's fuzzy plan to eliminate anything and everyone he came across had reached a calm phase. He sat next to his victim and gently ran his fingers through the blood soaked hair. 'This is for me.' Sam told the body. 'It's to help me to move on. I don't need those sons of whores anymore. Fucking wasting my time on them has worn me down. This here…' Sam held up a red meaty lump. '…will assist me in my endeavour to be what I was always meant to be. I just have to show them that I mean it. If Floyd could do it then so can I.' He prodded another bloody lump of something with a finger. 'That I'm afraid is going to stop you from going where your soul wanted you to go. I've sort of removed your GPS and you'll walk forever in this forest scaring the fuck out of happy campers for a millennium or maybe even longer. I suppose it depends on how long this fragile planet holds together for. There're so many predictions…' He looked down at the dead soldier he'd mutilated and was now talking to. '… and they're all very obviously wrong. The Mayans were a canny bunch of bastards. You know I could make this wild prediction and create a calendar and leave it somewhere mysterious and wondrous and that calendar could go up to a certain date… oh I could work it all out on the stars. I can do that you know? I could make this well wicked calendar and figure out all the calculations of it going not by the way the earth moves around the sun, but by some other random fact out there somewhere in this universe or maybe even a different universe… a different existence and I would have a beginning and ending date… People could use that… but all it would be was when I got bored of calculating the next phase of whatever sun I was using to figure it out… I've given myself a headache. What was I saying? Anyway the Mayan calendar doesn't predict fuck all. People predict. The rest is just numbers and anyone can do numbers. Nostradamus had some good predictions though… but each can refer to almost any incident you want to. It's a fucking joke. All of them are a fucking joke. I can make better and more accurate predictions than that arsehole. And now I've really lost track of what I was going to say.' Sam dropped the chewed heart onto the grass, drew his knees up close, wrapped his arms tightly around his legs and rested his head on his knees. 'I'm so tired. I'm so fucking tired I don't know what to do? Shall I walk away from this challenge I've been given? Shall I go back and try to find Spencer and Floyd? Or shall I carry on and carry on and carry on ripping and nibbling and hoping that someone down there is watching and taking note of me.' He sucked in a deep breath and began a strange chant from somewhere deep down inside. 'Guide me, show me, lead me, teach me, feed me, inspire me, give me courage, and give me a sign. Show me that you are watching and listening.' He whispered his words.

o-o-o

Sam was approached on two sides at almost the same time. Four men with guns stepped out from behind the trees with guns raised and grim expressions. From the other side of the clearing no one stepped out, but Floyd and Spencer hunkered down and watched. Floyd had already given Spencer a signal with his hand to keep his silence and stay still and as the soldiers didn't look like they were in the mood to take prisoners he decided that Floyd was at least for now doing the right thing. The thing which _did_ concern Spencer was that these particular men hadn't come from behind them and therefore couldn't have known about the other bodies, yet.

For the first couple of seconds nothing much happened. Sam was still talking quietly under his breath with his head resting on his knees. His concentration so deep in what he was asking for that he didn't realise that he was no longer alone until the barrel of a rifle jabbed him on his arm. Then a voice spoke.

'What the fuck.'

It wasn't really a question. Sam didn't have to answer it, so he just let out a soft moan and screwed his eyes tighter together. All thoughts of trying to gain something from the slaughter were gone and a list of excuses shot through his head.

'Get up!'

This voice belonged to the man who had prodded him. The others were standing looking down at the mess Sam had made.

Slowly Sam turned his head to face the voice. He'd already managed to squeeze some tears out and now that he could see who was talking to him he edited his list of excuses to match. 'It wasn't me.' He whispered and burst into dramatic sobbing. 'I found him… and I tried…' He held out bloody hands. '… but there was nothing I could do. He was already dead.'

'I told you to get up!' Now a hand reached out and grabbed Sam by the hair and pulled him to his feet. 'Who the hell are you and what happened?' It seemed inconceivable that the pathetic skinny sick looking form who was pulled to shaking feet and wobbly knees could have done this to one of their men, yet Sam was covered in blood. Sam was though at a disadvantage. He didn't know about the soldiers who had shot Floyd. He didn't know about the men who had tied Spencer up then later left him to die in the underworkings of the building they'd been in. He knew nothing about these people. The four armed men looked again at the mess their comrade had been turned into and then looked again at Sam. 'OK. Tell me what happened? Who you are and what you're doing here and maybe I'll not hang you from the nearest tree.'

'I didn't do anything wrong!' Sam's voice came out as a pathetic and well rehearsed whine. 'I was on vacation with my friends and we got split up and I got totally fucking lost. I've been walking for days and fucking days. It's lucky that I have good woodcraft skills. Anyway… I was walking and I heard something really weird. It was like a muffled moan and I thought it was an animal so I kept well away. I don't know if there's wild things in this area. I don't know if there're hunters and stuff and I'm only a kid and though I really want to find civilisation again I didn't want to end up as some woodsman's cunt, so I kept away cos I was fucking sure that I heard footsteps, but the sound faded and so I went back in the direction I'd been going in and found a dead bloke laying there in the leaves. I didn't know what to do… I just looked at him and then I ran. And I kept running and I was so fucking scared that I wasn't looking where I was going and I tripped and fell and when I looked back I saw that thing… and I had blood all over me and there was blood all over him and I wanted to see if he was still alive but I guessed not when I went to take his pulse in his neck and discovered his eyes were gone and then I was thinking of chest compressions and I pressed down… I pressed… and my hands just went on… and on… and my hands were inside him…' Sam paused and took in a deep breath. Even from where Floyd and Spencer were watching from they could see that Sam was shaking. 'And so I just sat there and cried. I didn't know what to do. I was too scared to move and too scared to look. I just wanted the nightmare to go away. Oh my fucking god, you know I can still feel what it was like when my hands slipped inside him.' Sam's knees now gave way and he went down to them gracefully and not too dramatically.

Sam had tied the hand made bola around his waist and as he was dragged back to his feet again it was removed by one and passed to another who was told to check it. 'Are you sure this isn't the same person you found earlier?'

A shuddered breath. 'Well I don't know. It could be but the other one wasn't torn apart and I thought I'd been running in a straight line from that way.' Sam pointed almost directly at Floyd and Spencer. 'But maybe I ran in a circle. I was in shock and crying. I might have done that, but the other man was just laying there… There was no blood. It looked more like an accident.'

'But you could have gone in a circle and come back to the same person who had in the meantime been mutilated by something?'

Sam now looked confused and gave a small shrug. 'Maybe, but I don't think so. This man is on grass. The other was on leaves and dirt.'

The man put an arm around Sam's shoulders. Sam wanted to squirm away and start running again, but it did actually seem to Sam that the man believed him. Spencer noted that Floyd's muscles had gone taut. He was ready to run to Sam's aid, but as of yet he'd not.

'Come here boy. I want to show you something.' Sam didn't resist. He was still shaking but was feeling confident that the morons had swallowed his story. He guided Sam up a small incline to a ridge and then turned him around to show him the view. 'Beautiful isn't it? The view.'

Sam gave a small nod. Apart from the bloody corpse laying there is was a nice view. (Even _with_ the body laying there spread out like a mad butchers dinner it was a beautiful sight.) He said a small, 'Yes.'

'Do you know what this ridge is called?' The man asked. He turned to look at Sam's profile and smiled. 'Of course you don't. You're just a little lost boy aren't you? I'll tell you. It's called Suicide Ridge. People come up here especially to hang themselves and have that as a last view. What do you think?'

'I think it's very sad when people are driven to suicide.'

'Drugs… that's the usual demon which takes people along that route. Drugs and mental illness. Now which have you got? I know you do drugs. You've got track marks on those skinny little arms of yours… but are you mentally ill too?' Sam remained silent. 'Because you know, if you are it would account for your untimely death and for what you did to trooper Styles. You shouldn't be here. You should have stayed with your buddies. You should never have gone off alone. Not with your drug dependency and your sick mind. This is what happens though. Eight people ended their lives hanging from this here tree last year. Your going add to the numbers. You see where this is going now?'

'I'm not a junky. I was once. I was in rehab and I'm fine now. I'm not mentally ill.' Sam was staring at the undergrowth on the other side of the clearing the body was laying in. He could tell something was there, but the smell of his own fear was masking it. 'But I think I might be in shock. I've not done anything wrong.' Sam's voice sounded as wobbly and pathetic as he looked. He picked at some scabs on his arms from where the barbed wire had cut him and looked miserable as one of the men walked over with Sam's bola. He reached out to take it but his hand was slapped away. Sam let out a small yelp as he looked around and assessed his situation which actually looked quite hopeless. He thought he could easily take out the two nearest to him, but the other two were standing down by the body, not looking at it, but staring up at Sam.

o-o-o

Floyd put a hand on Spencer's shoulder and talked directly into his ear. 'They're going to string him up. Now this might be a problem. It depends on whether they let him just choke, which I can hopefully rescue him from, or if they're going to break his neck, which I'm not so confident about. While they're distracted by Sam I need you to carefully and very silently move back away. Go back the way we came.' Floyd paused as one of the soldiers turned to look in their direction; he waited until the man turned back again and carried on talking. 'Avoid that road if you come across it again and keep going back south. I need you to go as quickly and as quietly as you can and you must _not_ return; whatever you hear or think you hear you keep going until I catch up with you again. This fucking place is a death trap. Walk with caution.'

Spencer didn't reply with words but slowly shook his head.

'Babes, I don't want you dead.'

'I've told you before that I'll not leave you. That decision stands. Last time I panicked and ran and this is the result of that. I'm not leaving.'

Floyd nodded and smiled a lazy smile. 'Spence…'

Reid placed a finger over Floyd's lips. 'No.' He said firmly. 'I'm not leaving.'

The smile of Floyd's face broadened. He didn't smile like that often and it sent a tingle of panic through Spencer. That was a dangerous smile. That smile could almost guarantee mayhem and pain. 'Fine, then stay here and just watch. Don't come running in thinking you can help.'

'But…'

'I hate that word. No buts and no excuses Spencer. Stay here. I'm not going to walk in there and get myself shot again. You wont help if you come running in stuttering and stammering over your words and looking like a pratt.'

This time Reid nodded. 'I'll stay here. I'll stay here unless you call me to you or someone comes after me.'

'Good. We have a compromise. I'm not going in there now though. We watch. Whatever happens to Sam we just observe.'

'Floyd…'

'We _observe_. Sam's out of control. You can clearly see that. Let them dish out punishment and then I'll go in and hope it's not too late.'


	22. Chapter 22

22

A look of confusion drifted over Sam's face as the man spoke to him. 'Any last words?'

'Last words?' Sam asked. 'What do you mean?'

'A god to pray to? Forgiveness to request? You have a full minute.'

Sam looked down at the body and then at the two men standing next to him. 'I don't understand. I didn't do that. I just found him. I tried to save him.'

'Thirty seconds left.' The soldier answered.

'No!' Sam turned and made it two steps forward before the rifle butt smacked him on the back of the head. He went straight to his knees and then delicately flopped forwards onto his front.

Spencer and Floyd watched with a mix of dismay from Spencer and excitement from Floyd. There was nothing quite as good as a nice hanging. Floyd had attended many in his past. Floyd had hung many in the past. It was the way they twitched and pissed themselves which Floyd enjoyed so much. It was one of the reasons he liked to lock his hands around Spencer's throat. That look of horror on the face of a man (occasionally woman) who is unable to take that next breath of air, or who can feel the blood supply no longer reaching the brain. A slow hanging made for a nice day out. Sam (in Floyd's mind) was a good and very pretty specimen. He just hoped that they woke him up first and that he could get a good view of the result. Subconsciously Floyd rubbed a hand over his tingling groin. Spencer didn't notice, his whole attention taken up by the scene unfolding.

The two men pulled Sam to his feet and shook him until he whimpered and opened his eyes again. 'Now stand still. Don't make this more painful than it has to be.'

Sam wriggled and struggled and let out shouts of… 'Get the fuck off me you mother fucking cunts.' ...and similar phrases, but the red length of his home made bola was secured tightly around his neck. He tried to pull it away. He kicked and scratched and pleaded and begged, but most of the kicks were ignored or evaded. Sam had nothing on his feet and his mud and blood smeared feet didn't do any damage when they _did_ manage to find a target. They didn't tie his hands. Suicides didn't do that and though they very much doubted that someone would locate this piece of trash for a good few weeks, if ever, they still wanted it to look right. One of the soldiers who had been standing guarding the corpse walked up and scrabbled a short way up the tree and sat astride a branch. The other end of the bola was tossed up and as the two still with Sam lifted the squirming spitting screaming thing off the ground the one on the branch tied it securely. They discussed how long it would hold him for. They talked about whether it would hold his weight and not just come unravelled or break, but they seemed happy with it. The soldier still with the corpse went cautiously over him, removing all identifying objects. As he stuffed the few things in his pockets the bloke up the tree jumped down and the two holding onto Sam let go.

They stood and watched for a very short while. Floyd might have gotten pleasure from watching someone die, but really they didn't. The fact that they did it was enough. They didn't need to stand and watch it.

Floyd let out a hiss from between his teeth as Sam kicked and writhed with his toes just a few inches from the forest floor. He needed these people to hurry up and leave and he needed them to leave in a direction other than the one he was crouched down in. He placed a calm damp palmed hand on Spencer's knee. He didn't want him suddenly leaping up and giving the game away. All that would result in was two bodies hanging from the tree and though that might have been good normally, today Floyd wanted to rescue just Sam. He was finding keeping both of his boys under control and under his thumb increasingly difficult. If one was doing as he demanded the other was running off doing things Floyd didn't want them doing. They were, in Floyd's mind like naughty school children, who needed constant supervision and that was a thing which Floyd was finding tiresome. He wondered for a little while as Sam struggled and pulled at the thing around his neck if he should just leave him there to slowly rot; leave him to die and then make sweet passionate love to Spencer right next to those grubby toes. Actually it wouldn't be sweet of very passionate; it would be a hard, rough fuckfest which might end up with Spencer getting his throat ripped out. Floyd decided, sadly, against it; not only was he having problems controlling them both, but healing them both from likely death was something else Floyd didn't want to deal with. He locked his eyes on Sam and ignored the tiny keening sound coming from Spencer. He remained aware of him though. One move from Reid and they'd be noticed and would be joining Sam, and that was not an event which Floyd wanted to happen.

In another time, another place, a lot of drink and some dope… well then maybe… but now was just _not_ the right time. It rankled Floyd that all the things he was seeing as very pleasurable were not actually available to him. It galled him equally that he always considered the forest to be his true home. It was the place he always ran back to when he needed piece or to return to the nearest place he could consider his roots… but now it had been invaded. Most of the great forests he'd roamed in the distant past had been invaded, chopped down, built on, farmed, despoiled to a tragic degree, but that wasn't what annoyed him the most. It was these people. These men who were pushing him around as such. They shot him… they left Spencer to the shadows and now they were taking Sam. He ripped his gaze off Sam and turned to look at Spencer who was looking at the forest floor.

'You cant look? You cant at least give him the comfort that you looked?'

Reid didn't know how looking at Sam twitching on the end of a home made rope would give anyone comfort. He was about to hiss this back at Floyd but Floyd didn't give him the opportunity. A fist smacked into the side of Reid's head, a hand grabbed him by the shirt and Floyd lowered Reid slowly to the ground. 'Don't you fucking argue with me.' Floyd muttered as though he'd been reading Reid's mind. Now he had a mostly dead Sam and an unconscious Spencer. Sometimes Floyd thought that the Angels were still looking out for him. Every time it seemed that life had taken a bad turn, good luck like this happened. He looked up at the grey sky and mouthed. 'Thank you.' Then he turned his attention back to the soldiers, who were now packing up and getting ready to leave. Floyd's main concern had been if they had shot or ripped Sam apart too, but each man walked by slowly two of them spat at Sam, one urinated on him and the last one pulled the fingers of Sam's right hand out from under the corded bit of bola tied around his neck. The men then walked away leaving their dead comrade on the forest floor. 'Wait there.' Floyd said to Reid… though there was no real need. Floyd stood, sighed and walked with speed and silence over to Sam.

Spencer opened his eyes. He didn't actually remember Floyd clouting him, but he could think of no other reason he had a stinking headache and was laying in the undergrowth. He rubbed at the side of his head and felt a large lump rising. Back in the past when things first started to be more as they are now, he would have questioned the reason why Floyd felt the need to hit out; now he didn't feel the need to ask. There was never a real reason for it. Some switch in Floyd's head would turn on and this was one of the results from it. Spencer didn't want to think that Floyd actually knew what he was doing. He would like to say that Floyd didn't even realise that he'd done it. How many times had he woken up from a battering with Floyd sitting next to him worried and saying he would make things right… not _that_ many. How many times had Floyd said he was sorry? Even less times – if ever. How many times had Floyd declared that he would never hurt him? Oh very often. Too often. He pushed up onto his elbows as quietly as he could. The forest around him span for a while and then settled. He was able to look out through the cover they'd been sitting in and look at Floyd.

'No.' Spencer whispered to himself. He rubbed at his eyes with his fingers and it still looked very much to him as though Floyd was doing something other than a _recovery_ with Sam. 'Floyd.' Spencer muttered the words. He really thought that if he'd spoken aloud that it would have come out as a scream. He broke into a long loping run across the clearing, jumping with almost cat like grace which was not normal for Reid, over the body, and onwards up the small incline towards Floyd.

Floyd had a hold of Sam around the middle. He was facing Sam's back. Sam's head had lolled forwards with his chin almost touching his chest. All good. That's all good. Except that it wasn't.

'What the hell!'

'It's OK… go back and wait.' Floyd muttered into Sam's back.

'Is this why you knocked me senseless, so I'd not have to witness this depravity? That thing is cutting into his neck and all you can think of is to satisfy your own sick needs? I knew you were a selfish son of a… But this?'

'Go away. I'm just dry humping him. Where's the fun in that if he's not still twitching? It's not like I've got my dick up his arse is it? Stop being such a fucking prig Spencer and piss the hell off. Go wank over your perfect fucking morals.'

Reid wanted to smack him. He wanted to drag him away from Sam and make Floyd feel some pain. He had an overwhelming need to risk his own life so he could get at least one kick in before Floyd slaughtered him, but if he did that, then Sam would be hanging by his neck again. Sadly, at least Floyd was holding the weight off him. Spencer took a couple of steps away. 'I'm lost for words to describe how I feel about you right now.' Spencer told Floyd. He then turned and walked away. At the bottom of the slight incline Spencer sat down and put his head in his hands. He would have liked to have just kept walking away. He had had so many chances to do so and each time he'd stayed. Floyd had told him to leave and he'd stuck it out and for what? So he could see _that_?

Spencer looked up when something was dropped on the floor in front of him. He glanced at Sam who was laying there and then up at Floyd who was standing frowning at the pair of them. 'He's not dead.' Floyd announced. 'Not yet. But I have an offer to make.' Spencer looked confused and looked again down at Sam who'd not moved and then back up at Floyd. 'His neck's not broken you see? He's going to recover just fine, but he's also going to be sleeping for a bit until that recovery happens. His body will slowly repair. I can, if you wish, change that. I know you don't like Sam. I know you don't want him around. I know you're jealous of him and want him gone. Just say the word and I'll sort that. You will have me all to yourself and Sam will be added to the _missing persons_ list when we reach civilisation.'

Reid nodded slowly and sighed. 'So you rescue him, sexually assault him, and now you're offering to kill him for _me_? What the hell is wrong with you Floyd?'

'Which part of that doesn't fit?' Floyd flopped down onto the grass next to Reid. 'You want honesty from me?' Spencer let out a snort of derisive laughter at that. 'I cant cope.' Floyd continued. 'The pair of you are doing my head in. It was a mistake bringing you both. I need to dispose of one of you so that this'll work properly. I just want a nice time, so sweet love making and fun. You two are turning this whole thing into a fucking nightmare. If you could just accept Sam for what he is…'

'You are not going to get what you want by threatening me Floyd. You only want one of us? Fine… have Sam. Have him! I'll leave. I'll go. If that's what you want then I will walk away from here and go back to the life I'm meant to have. You need to promise me though, that you'll never contact me again, not by letter, by phone, by any form of face to face, and certainly not by your weird mind. Promise me that and I'll happily leave you with Sam.' Spencer stood up and started to walk back to where he'd left his back pack.

'If you walk away I'll kill him and come after you. Don't you fucking force my hand here Spencer. Don't you fucking dare blackmail me.'

Reid spun on the spot and started to walk back. Uncharacteristically clenching his fists at his side. 'What do you want?' Spencer shouted in Floyd's face. 'You tell me you want just one of us. I say I'll go and now you tell me you'll kill Sam if I do? What do you want from me Floyd? What do you really want?'

Spencer got a finger prodded into his chest. 'Don't you bloody well shout at me you fucking whore! Don't you _ever_ fucking shout at me! Who the hell do you think you are? You're just some freak I decided to fuck! That's all you are and all you'll ever fucking well be! If I want to screw Sam I will. If I want to fuck you I will. If I want to shove my cock down your throat I fucking well will! Don't you fucking walk away from me!'

Spencer slowly placed a hand over Floyd's wrist and pushed his hand down. 'You want one of us. You don't want me to leave. I guess that means that you want to get rid of Sam, yet I know you don't. You want Sam. You want me. You don't want us both. You're cracking up Floyd. You're losing your mind.'

'Is it any bloody surprise?' Floyd placed his fists on his temples and rubbed. 'I was hoping for a nice week or so away from pressure. I was going to show Sam more woodcraft, show you how to light a fire with sticks and all that shit. This has happened. This shit! I wanted to show you two that waterfall and get you all sexed up and horny under that water. I wanted to have you.' Floyd paused. 'Marry me.' He said with a smile on his face.

'What?' There was no smile on Spencer's face.

'A civil union then. Something to make you officially mine. I'll sign papers… if I die you'll have everything I have.'

'An STD and a pile of unwashed clothes? Thank you for the offer Floyd but, no.'

'My money.'

'Sam.'

Floyd gently placed a foot over Sam's neck. 'No not Sam. I'll dispose of Sam. Just the two of us.'

'If you kill Sam I will walk away from you and you'll have no one.'

'I want you.' Floyd muttered.

'Well you have a funny way of showing it! But you actually _do_ have me. I've been yours since I was twelve years old! Why rescue Sam if you have no intention of allowing him to live? Why do that? I don't understand you. I don't understand why you do one thing when really you mean to do another. You want me… I'm yours, but damn Floyd you'll lose me if you hurt Sam.'

The foot moved away again. 'But you don't even like Sam. Why is it a problem if I get rid of him? He's not even really real you know?'

'He looks real enough to me, but you seem to be saying that if I stay you'll kill him and if I leave you'll kill him. What do you want me to do Floyd?'

Floyd sat down on the grass next to Sam. 'I want some fire in your belly. I want you to show me what _you_ want. I want to see you fight for what you want. I need you to show me more than curiosity and contempt. I want you to occasionally come on to me and make love to me. I want you to sometimes take the lead. I'm tired of being the one to always initiate anything. I want to feel that you're here because you want to be here and not because I coerced you or threatened you. I want to feel you make physical contact with me without me having to rip your clothes off first.'

Spencer flopped down onto the grass next to Floyd. 'I do.' He whispered.

Floyd shook his head. 'No you don't. You put up with me. You piss me around. You run back to Hotchner when you're unhappy with me. You walk the dark streets and look at other men. You never come to me and woo me.'

'Well, this is new. Feeling sorry for your self Feeling unloved. Feeling unwanted. Maybe I've just learnt not to make the first move on you. Maybe I'm too cautious to do that. Maybe I don't know how to _woo_. We need to go home Floyd. We have to go home and talk about this behind closed doors. I don't feel safe or comfortable out here.'

'Excuses. One after a fucking other. Always the excuses. You didn't know, you didn't see, it never occurred to you. Fuck you Spencer. I'm not feeling sorry for myself Spencer. Far from it. If we were apart for too long then that's my fault. My doing. I'll accept that. I'll take you home. But I'll never leave you alone. I will be with my Sam here. I will have him to make love to and you to use as my whore.'

'I'll tell you what you need to do Floyd. You need to make Sam better. Make him feel less of a dog and more of a person. You might not find a problem in showing your love to Sam in front of me, but I do. I find it hurtful and offensive. There's a reason I stay with you and a reason I don't walk away when I can or maybe should and it's got nothing to do with being coerced or bullied. You left me for two years not knowing what was going on or why you'd left. I didn't go looking for affection elsewhere. I stayed at home most nights alone. There's a reason for that.'

Floyd licked at his lips and then grabbed at Sam and pulled him onto his lap. 'Go get the backpacks babes. I'll sort Sam out without the use of my throbbing cock. We seem to have resolved nothing though. You're still going to be you, I'll still be me, and Sam'll still be in the middle of us. One day he'll just disappear and you're going to accuse me of disposing of him. I know he'll go, I know you'll accuse me…' He watched Spencer walk away then called out. 'And I fucking _know_ you didn't mooch around night after night waiting for me. I know you walked the streets spying on others having fun and moreover I know for fucking sure that you went to whores and got your dick sucked for a few bucks. You thought I didn't know that? Well I did. I knew. So don't come the fucking high and mighty with me babes. You're as much the whore as Sam is. Without people like you, people like Sam would never earn a living. And you can deny it all you fucking well want to but I know what you did… and that's why I love you!' He finished.

Reid didn't reply. This conversation was going nowhere. They only seemed to speak if an argument was needed by Floyd or if orders needed to be followed. As for Floyd's declaration of love, well Spencer didn't for one second believe that. This was and never had been a relationship based on love. It was based on fear and now that Reid had shown that he wasn't afraid of Floyd, Floyd had moved the pieces on the board and was using Sam as the threat. It seemed to be working. Spencer would love to have picked up his things and walked away, but he genuinely thought that Floyd would do something horrific to Sam in retribution if he did. Reid wished that he didn't care. He wished that he could look at Sam as nothing more than a toy which had no real meaning, but even though Floyd had told him again and again that Sam was nothing more than a demonic plaything, Sam was still a living breathing creature and he'd not leave a _dog_ behind with Floyd all the time he was throwing his toys from his pram. Floyd's tantrums tended to be self destructive, violent and painful for everyone. Spencer sat and brooded over the situation for a few minutes and then turned to look at Floyd who was slowly and actually gently massaging Sam's chest.

'He's too thin.' Reid told Floyd.

'I like them thin. I like them fragile and easy to break, but yes, he's getting too skinny. What do you want me to do about it? He's not eating what I offer him, though I suspect he's had a meal recently. However… the matter now is that we cant stay here. They might be back to check up. Decision time and I'm tired of being the one having to push you forward constantly. We can carry on or go back. You decide.' Floyd rolled Sam off his lap again and sighed.

'I'd like to see that waterfall, but I'm tired of the constant arguments. Maybe we need to go back and repair what's gone wrong here and then try over again. Just the two of us. Get Sam back in college.'

It was Floyd's turn to say nothing. He'd hoped for a reaction to his declaration and got nothing back. Still nothing back from Spencer. It was all going horribly wrong. He had hoped that his sudden arrival back on the scene would have prompted Spencer to make lust-filled demands, but Spencer was distant and somewhat boring. Floyd sat for a short while wondering if Spencer had always been this boring or if his couple of years away had been too long. He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, stood up, got his bag, shouldered it and then picked up Sam and threw him over his shoulder. Spencer had stated that he wanted to see the waterfall and Floyd wanted to see it too; he actually craved it, but spite and maybe a bit of a childish outburst forced him to start to retrace his steps back the way they'd come. After all, if Spencer asked, they had only come this way to look for Sam anyway. He walked away from Spencer without saying a word. A deep dark sulk had taken hold of him. Spencer was going to have to do a lot of work to gain forgiveness from Floyd, as it was certainly Spencer who was in the wrong here.

Spencer was hungry. He could hear his stomach rumbling and demanding food, but he said nothing. They reached the stinking lake just after what would have been lunch time and Spencer hoped that Floyd would stay here for a while, but he kept on walking, skirting around the brown water and off back in the direction they'd originally come from. Late afternoon and they'd still not spoken to each other and this was worrying Spencer. He didn't want to be the first one to break the silence as he knew that Floyd was doing this to wind him up and he didn't want to appear to have been the one to break first. Spencer could be as stubborn as Floyd when he wanted to be. The small road had been reached and crossed and now they were heading due south back towards civilization. About ten minutes after crossing the road Floyd pulled Sam off his shoulder and dropped him to the ground. He prodded him with a toe and then sighed, turned his back and kept on walking. It would be dark soon and so Spencer thought that Floyd was going to go and look for firewood.

'I'll help.' Reid muttered.

Floyd turned back to look at Spencer. 'Help?'

'Gathering firewood, making camp; I'll help.'

Floyd shook his head. 'I'm not making camp. I want to get out of this damned place.'

Spencer therefore assumed that Floyd had dropped Sam so he'd pick him up. Reid crouched down next to Sam and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a mistake.

'Get your fucking hands off him!' Floyd bellowed. 'Don't you fucking touch him!' A hand wrapped fingers through Spencer's hair and pulled him back out of the way. 'Never touch him. Keep your sodding prick loving hands off him.' He hissed.

Reid flinched back away from Sam and looked up at an enraged looking Floyd. 'He needs help, Floyd.' He attempted to reason.

'Beyond help Spencer… beyond help.' Floyd put a hand down towards Spencer who again flinched back, this time falling back onto his backside in the leaves. 'Why do you always think I'm going to hurt you? When are you going to get over yourself and understand that I'd never hurt you? We need to keep going. We'll go back to the van then backtrack down and back to the nearest telephone. Come… leave him.' Spencer looked up at Floyd and then down at Sam and his stomach hitched. 'Don't look so shocked. He's been gone for about an hour. I just needed to bring him this far. Didn't want those cunts finding him. Now you can smile and relax. It's just the two of us.'

A frown crossed Spencer's face. 'Then you don't mind if I check? You're right in thinking that I want it to be just the two of us, but you're very wrong if you think I want Sam dead.'

'Go ahead. Check.' Floyd shrugged. That angry look had gone now. A blank one had taken its place. Not a look Spencer liked. Enraged, Spencer could deal with… he knew what to expect… this empty blank look he had no clue what would happen next.

'You're letting me touch him?' Reid went back into a crouch.

'No, no… I said you cant, however you may look all you want. He makes a very pretty corpse.' Reid leaned over Sam and moved in close without making physical contact. As Sam was laying on his back it was easy for Spencer to see that there was no movement in the chest. He could see that vile blue look around Sam's mouth. He could see blank staring eyes. Reid moved back out of the way and stood.

'Can you at least close his eyes for him? Cover him? Something? Not just leave him here like this.'

'It's not worse than what he did to those people Spencer, and he's only in this state now because of what he did. I wonder what he did with the eyes. Do you think he ate them? It's not something I'd do, but Sam has peculiar ways… a lot of what he does sometimes almost mirrors what I'd do, yet in other ways he's so damned… _odd_. Why the eyes?' Floyd did move in though and with a hand closed Sam's eyes for him. He moved Sam's hands to lay them on his stomach and then leaned in to give him a kiss goodbye.

Sam blinked.

Floyd smirked.

Sam licked his lips.

Floyd leaned in closer. 'Follow.' His voice was so quiet that it would only have been audible to Sam as the word was sighed into his ear.

Sam's fingers twitched.

Floyd moved back away from him.

'Want to kiss him goodbye?' Floyd offered. 'I promise not to kill you for touching him.' Floyd moved to Sam's feet and straightened out his legs for him. He resisted the urge to tickle those feet. The game would be over if Sam suddenly screamed with laughter. Floyd wanted to be the one laughing.

Spencer didn't want to kiss Sam goodbye but he felt he had to do something. Just something to show some respect. 'Can we not at least cover him with some rocks?'

Floyd shook his head. 'I want to be out of here before it gets really dark.' He took hold of Spencer's hand and started to walk away. He would have given Sam another long tongue probing kiss goodbye but didn't want another long moaning session from Spencer. They walked away in silence. It was a further hour before Floyd finally stopped his fast paced walk and sat, pulling his backpack off and putting his back to a tree. He pulled up his knees, wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on his knees. He was smiling, but to Reid it looked like Floyd had sunk into a deep depression. His silence worried him. His posture worried him. The dark worried him… and the small noises off in the undergrowth worried him.

'Floyd?' Reid sat down next to him and with great caution and with his muscles tense ready to let his body move away fast he moved an arm and wrapped it around Floyd's shoulder. 'Is there anything I can do?'

Floyd slowly shook his head. 'No babes. I need to collect firewood. You stay here.' Floyd moved away and Spencer's arm moved to rest on his lap. He thought that he could see that Floyd was upset. He was sure that there might have even been tears, but he wasn't sure. What Spencer felt wasn't grief or even relief that Sam had gone, what Spencer felt was deep brooding guilt and that was exactly what Floyd wanted him to be feeling. Reid did stay where he was and Floyd did collect firewood. He also set up a few small snares just in case. Spencer actually thought that Floyd had placed them a bit close to the camp. Surely they'd be better off a bit further away… that's what Floyd usually did, but not tonight it seemed. Floyd also collected roots and berries and some leaves… and placed them in three separate piles.

'I forgot OK?' Floyd muttered as he moved one of the piles of food out of the way. 'Habit. Not one I feel comfortable breaking.' He sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hands and sighed deeply. 'You got what you wanted.'

'Never. No. You cant possibly think that this is what I wanted.' Spencer moved quickly to Floyd's side. 'I might have wanted him out of the way but only because I needed time just with you. I needed to bond with you properly again. You know? Get used to each other… I never would _ever_ wish someone dead. You should know better than to think that. But I understand if that _is_ how you're feeling. I understand. It's hard to lose someone you love. I would say I was sorry but you hate that word and I don't know what else to say to you. I _am_ sorry, Floyd. I just wanted space… some time alone with you and without the pressure of Sam being there watching or getting in the way of the two of us, but he's been there since you returned. He was the reason you said you returned.' Again he wrapped an arm around Floyd and again Floyd allowed it.


	23. Chapter 23

23

Floyd got exactly what he wanted. He was in receipt if a delightful session of licking, touching, stimulating, nibbling, arse pounding fun. Moreover, Floyd got Spencer right back where he needed him to be. Begging for more. Pleading. Grovelling. In his proper place as the under-dog.

Spencer in a way got what he wanted too. This felt right in a strange way. He backed down from the bravado he'd been hiding behind for so long and put himself back in the position Floyd needed him to be in, (no pun intended) and Spencer was sore and scratched, bitten, slapped, punched, and ripped and bleeding in the way which funnily enough seemed to be exactly what he'd been wanting since the day Floyd walked out.

Sam also got what he wanted. He had done what Floyd had instructed. He'd slowed down his heart and breathing to a point that Spencer would think he was dead. He had then followed silently and he had hunkered down in the deep shadows of the early evening and watched Floyd and Spencer having a jolly good, if somewhat energetic and blood filled, time. Sam knew why Floyd had set the snares so close to the camp. Sam knew it was because Floyd didn't want Spencer wandering off and discovering that they were being followed. It was the same reason Floyd didn't want Spencer to help him collect firewood. He was very tempted to sneak in and swipe the little bundle of food which Floyd had left for him, but that would have to wait until the morning. For now Sam was honing his survival and woodcraft skill, his tracking skills and his ability to walk silently. He knew that Floyd knew he was there. That was obvious. This whole show with Spencer was for him. Sam liked to watch. Sam had a huge collection of things back at college which he watched in his spare time. Sam knew which places to go to where he could pay a few bucks just to watch. Sam knew which houses didn't close curtains and where to sit and watch with binoculars pressed against his eyes. Sam knew how to silently and carefully break into some of those houses and watch through keyholes or set up hidden cameras so that he could go watch from his laptop. Sam loved watching. Sam adored Floyd… this was perfection. He watched Spencer and Floyd roll around, he watched Floyd hammer Spencer against a tree, he watched the touching, the ramming, the begging and he listened to the yelps and cries. He would have loved to have gone and joined in. But for now he comforted his frustration with his hand and let the slight breeze bring those smells to him and let the darkness deliver those sounds, and he let the firelight give that one naked sweaty body and the one clothed and sweaty body a flickering red glow. Once Spencer and Floyd were laying still with arms and legs wrapped securely around each other, Sam silently moved back deeper into the shadows. He rubbed now at his bruised neck, at his sore back, at his aching hip and then lay down under cover of a fallen tree and fell asleep sucking his thumb.

'That's better than mooching in some back alleyway isn't it?' Floyd whispered into Spencer's ear.

Reid wasn't sure if that was meant to make him feel better or not, but he suspected the latter. Floyd was just reminding him of what he knew Spencer had done. There was no point in denying it. He had wandered down those places he would have liked to only visit if investigating the death of a prostitute, but that wasn't how things worked any more. Spencer could put on the innocent face at work. He could pretend that he spent his evenings reading, and actually some of them he did, but not all of them… not even nearly all of them. Spencer took it upon himself initially to go look for Floyd. He suspected that he'd find him somewhere around the homeless shelters and squats, but he'd been wrong. Floyd wasn't there. Whilst he was trying to get information from people he almost convinced himself that he was working for the BAU undercover… that he was gaining information, but that really wasn't true. Spencer enjoyed his status at work. He liked the security and power the badge gave him, but he also liked to kneel in the dirt or stand with his hands against a wall whilst someone pleasured him.

The next few days saw Spencer and Floyd talking about things which didn't involve Sam. It was a relief to Spencer and as Floyd knew that Sam was following he had no need to keep on about the subject. Floyd made sure that he left food for Sam each time preparing three portions of food and each time Spencer not saying anything about it. Actually it made Spencer feel even more guilt. It was obvious that Floyd was grieving in his own way. It never occurred to him that Sam was fine and following and watching their every move. Floyd was even adding special little bits to Sam's supply; small pain killing mushrooms which helped take the edge of the pain Sam was in. Oddly Sam also now trusted that Floyd wasn't going to poison him. Why would he do that when he'd had every chance available to top him or make life miserable? Only once had Spencer thought that he heard something, but Floyd had told him it was just woodland animals or birds and Spencer had easily believed him. They made their way back to the place they'd left the van in much better time than when they'd departed company originally. To Spencer it was a great relief to see the first signs of human life… human life which wasn't about to jump out and kill them anyway. Obviously it wasn't going to take them anywhere but they still climbed in the back of the van and snuggled up and rested for a while. Spencer at last had his bearings and there was light at the end of this miserable tunnel finally. As it was already late afternoon it seemed to be the best place to rest up for the night. This suited Spencer very well. A cover over his head and some sense of familiarity at last made him happy. It didn't make Floyd particularly happy though. He was broody and miserable. Spencer put this down to the few objects in the back of the van which had belonged to Sam. A hair brush was sitting in the corner… a broken flip flop had been left behind. Floyd told Spencer to sit and wait whilst he went out to set some snares and collect food. Even though it wasn't quite dark yet, when the van door closed Spencer was plunged into deep depressing darkness. He pulled his flashlight out of his backpack and took the time to change his clothing which he'd not done for way too long.

Floyd _did_ set a few snares and as he always did, he set them not too far away from where they'd be sleeping. He then walked back in the direction he'd just come from and once out of sight of the van leaned on a tree, lit up a cheroot and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Sam moved out of the shadows and over to Floyd, where he wrapped his arms tightly around Floyd and rested his head on Floyd's chest.

Sam felt Floyd's arms pull him in closer and felt Floyd's hands pressing on his dirty back.

'What have you learnt?' Floyd asked him.

'To always remain aware of my surroundings. Never to run in panic. Not to kill unless I have surveyed and planned correctly. Never to kill and then sit and wait for something amazing to happen. How to make you scream in delight. I don't know where Spencer learnt _that_ little trick from, but it's one I'll be implementing.'

'Then you've learnt important lessons. Tonight I need you to do something for me. And that little trick? Well Spencer learnt that from me. It's a variation on the one which makes _you_ howl. It just makes the body sort of jump in surprise and tightens the muscles for a second, like when I punch you in the back of the head. I've no time to hang around. He'll wonder where I am. The van's not working, no problem still following. Now listen carefully. There's much I need you to do and things you need to remember. I don't want you thinking I've deserted you.'

They spent only a few minutes together. Floyd would have liked to have remained there for the rest of the night, but Spencer would have eventually come looking for him and that wouldn't do. He needed Spencer, at least for now, to think that Sam was rotting in the forest a few days back. He gave Sam a list of instructions, and then gave him a long lip crushing kiss.

o-o-o

Floyd knew that something was about to happen long before Spencer did. They were sitting playing cards and both of them were cheating wonderfully. For the first time in a long while Spencer was laughing and Floyd was grinning. They were having proper fun. A lovely relaxed sort of fun. Floyd knew it was about to stop and in some ways was sad that this happy time was about to end.

'What was that?' Spencer put down the three cards he was holding and looked towards the rear of the van they were both snugly sitting in.

'Probably just an animal.' He slapped a card down.

'Probably?' Spencer glanced down at the card he knew Floyd shouldn't have had and smiled. The smile didn't last long. Something rattled against the rear doors of the van. It sounded like a hand full of small stones had rained on it. 'What the hell?' Reid went to go towards the doors, but Floyd grabbed his hand.

'Sit and play. I'm winning.'

'Floyd… what the devil was that?'

'I'm winning. Come on. Don't be such a sore loser.'

'You're only winning because you're a better cheat. What was that?' As he spoke something made a horrible metal on metal screech down the side of the van. 'Floyd?'

Floyd placed his cards down and picked up the flashlight they'd placed so that they could see what they were doing. He shone the light onto the rear doors and then down the side of the van. 'Maybe… Naa… Cant be. We're well away. It's just an animal. Perhaps a big animal.'

'You're not a better cheat. I'm letting you win.' Spencer informed Floyd. 'And you know that wasn't an animal. That was someone running something down the side of the van. That's not any animal I know of; and well away? What?'

Again Floyd waved the light around making the shadows inside the van jump, shrink back and then slide in around them again. 'You know those things in that building? I thought they were confined to that place. Actually I was sure they were confined to just that corridor and rooms and the under workings. There was nothing in the sewers, there was nothing in the forest… but maybe they've found us. Just stay here. I'll take a look.' As he spoke another rattling sound echoed through the van, only this time it sounded more like someone drumming fingernails on the rear doors of the van. 'Or I can stay here. We've got the flashlight. So we _should_ be safe enough, though tomorrow we're going to have to brave the outside and hope we make it to somewhere where you can call a cab from before it gets dark again. I'll go look if you want, but I'll have to take the flashlight with me.' Though even if Floyd didn't know it was Sam out there he wouldn't have needed a flashlight; Floyd's night vision was stunning.

'Don't go.' Spencer was around and sitting on the floor next to Floyd before another word could be uttered. 'I don't want to be left…'

'…in the dark. I know. Then we stay in here and let whatever it is play its games and hope it cant get the doors open. I cant lock them from the inside.'

Sam threw dirt, stones, bits of wood, animal bones and various other little things he'd picked up. He scraped fingernails down the side of the van. He rattled the rear door handles. He slid under the van and made clicking rattling noises. He climbed on the top and jumped up and down. He stood at the side and rocked it back and forth. He made small animalistic noises and barking howling sounds. He picked up a rock and smashed the cab windows. He kept up the game for a couple of hours in total, with small intervals. Floyd was very proud of him. He'd done a good job of scaring the shit out of Spencer. By the time Sam moved away again and picked up the dinner Floyd had left for him, Spencer was virtually sitting on Floyd's lap. All had gone according to plan. Floyd was again the protector, the one Spencer needed, the person who Reid knew would keep him safe. Job done. Now he had to work out what to actually do with Sam. He _had_ missed him at first, but even though Sam had redeemed himself slightly over the past few days Floyd hadn't forgiven him for going on a rampage in the first place. It was going to take a bit more than throwing stones at a van to make good of this.

It was now Sam's turn to sit and listen to the noises, this time coming from inside the van as Floyd lovingly comforted his victim. He comforted his neck first and then moved down to comfort Spencer's chest, arms, fingers, toes, inner thigh and from there Sam knew that the comforting had taken on a rougher edge as words like… 'No! That hurts!' and then… 'More… more… oh god…' Words from Spencer. Words which made Sam wish that he could watch and not just listen. Had Spencer been a corpse on the table of the local morgue, people would have been asking questions and wondering why he was covered in human bite marks, some of them bad enough to draw blood… bite marks on very tender areas which was going to make walking painful in the morning. Sam sat and listened for a while and then picked himself up and walked with his head down back into the cover of the trees.

o-o-o

Floyd was the first out of the van in the morning, closely and carefully followed by Spencer. Floyd gave the van a quick look, but took very little interest in what had happened. Spencer though inspected every mark on the paintwork. _If_ this had been the work of the things in the shadows did that mean that they could follow them all the way back to the city? Would they haunt them forever? He asked Floyd this question and got a shrug in reply.

'I dunno.' Floyd muttered. 'Grab the bags and let's get the hell out of here. I wasn't expecting them to follow us. Maybe they can only follow this far? Fingers crossed huh?' Spencer attempted to talk about it more, but Floyd was being stubborn and refusing to. Was it because Floyd was as bothered about it as Spencer was? Reid didn't know. 'Maybe, I was thinking you know? I had an idea…' Floyd trailed off.

Spencer was looking at the smashed glass with a puzzled expression. 'What idea? I wish you would say what you're thinking and quit teasing me.'

'Sam.'

Reid turned his head so fast that it made a cracking popping sound in his neck. 'Sam?'

'Well he's not like us is he? Well not like you any way. Know what I mean? He's not… human? He's me. Maybe he's trying…'

'No!' Spencer shouted, picked up his bag and started to painfully stride away. 'I'm not going to listen to your horror stories. I know what you're doing. I know what you game is. I'm not even going to give it a second thought. I know you don't like it and I know different people grieve and mourn in different ways, Floyd, but Sam is _dead_. We saw that. We both saw it. And for your information I'm not going to even _think_ about Sam haunting us… if that's what you are getting at. It's ridiculous and insane and I'll not consider that to be an option. I wont consider it. Don't mention it again.'

Floyd was at his side in a flash, grinning internally and frowning externally. 'You cant tell me that there are no monsters in the dark Spencer, you _know_ there are.' He paused, turned his mouth towards Spencer's ear and shouted 'BOO!'

Spencer let out a small yelp of alarm and jumped back away from Floyd. 'You think it's amusing?' His hissed at Floyd. 'You don't seem bothered that we were attacked last night. You don't seem bothered by it at all. Why is that? Why doesn't it bother you, yet when in that building I _know_ you were? Either you know what's really going on here and just want to see me jump at every shadow or you've stopped caring what happens.'

'Was just trying to lighten what has been, at least for me, a horrific and life changing experience. I care. Of course I care. This hasn't been the best trip of my life and I'm sure that Sam probably thinks the same. Maybe, just maybe, you should stop whining like a fucking kid and think about other people for a damned change. I've said things to you recently which actually meant a lot to me. I've declared my love for you, and even sodding well asked you to be my legal partner and what do I get back? Nothing! I got nothing from you.' Floyd shook his head at Spencer. 'Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!' Floyd grabbed at Spencer's retreating backpack and pulled him to a stop. 'You're doing my fucking head in Spence.'

Reid shrugged Floyd's hand off his backpack and carried on walking. 'I understand that you're probably upset about Sam, but there is absolutely no need to take it out on me. I had nothing to do with what happened to Sam. If you want to talk through your thoughts on what happened, then I'm willing to listen, but I'm not going to put up with this stupidity if you insist on hiding behind that mask of yours. I want truth. I want you to open up and tell me how you're feeling about what happened. And I want you to tell me what happened last night and why you're not concerned that whatever it was will come back and have another go tonight.'

Floyd skipped to Spencer's side and took his hand. 'Fine. Initially I thought it might have been those shadow things, but now I'm thinking otherwise. I really do believe that those things are confined to those particular areas of that building. I was pretty damned sure of it before and I'm not going to let that event last night colour my previous thoughts on that matter. Those _things_ can only be where they lived. They didn't live and die out here Spencer so I believe, quite strongly, that out here we are safe from them. Now the other considerations – As said it might have been Sam… I've told you before about the hearts and livers? I've explained more than once that the soul lives internally. Sam was never born of the flesh of a woman. He was never conceived by what you'd consider conventional means… he has no soul… what Sam has is a spirit. I left him whole.'

'Zombies. We've gone from ghosts to zombies. You've been watching too many late night movies Floyd. What's next, vampires and werewolves? This isn't a fairy story… this is real life. People don't get up and come back to life and seek vengeance on the ones they consider took their lives. It doesn't happen.' Spencer squeezed Floyd's hand. 'Except maybe with you.'

'Then if it wasn't shadows and it wasn't Sam… what was it? Those blokes in uniform with guns? I don't think so babes. Animals don't throw rocks through windows. Maybe some vile dirty woodsman trying to spook us? That's the only other option available. We need to get the hell out of here quickly. It's going to be a couple of days walk to the nearest gas station though. It would be nice to find somewhere to get water. I'm as thirsty as a whore in Vegas… which you'd know all about.'

Spencer ripped his hand from Floyd's grasp. 'Yes obviously I would know all about Vegas whores wouldn't I?'

'As you are one… I'd think so. So how thirsty _are_ you?'

'Quite a bit actually.'

'Yeah… feels like I fell asleep with a tampon in my mouth… again.'

'You are vile sometimes Floyd.'

'But you still love me.'

There was no vocal reply but Spencer gave Floyd a sideways glance and took hold of his hand again.

For the rest of the morning Floyd took time to point out things to Spencer which he could eat. He picked things and showed them to him, dug up roots, pulled down big shiny leaves, collected some tasty insects. He showed Spencer how to mix different things together to get the best nutrition and taste. He pointed out some fungus which had pain killing properties. All the time he was doing this Sam was watching closely and then moved in quickly after Floyd and Spencer had moved on and took what Floyd had pointed out. There was even occasionally a discarded roll of goodies; a few smokes and a disposable lighter had been left at one place. Floyd talked to Spencer about how he used to live in one of the great forests and how he'd had to sometimes put mud on his face as his skin was so pale and almost glowed in the night. For Spencer it was just idle chatter and for Sam it was an instruction to keep back and keep covered. The pair of them located a small stream which they drank from and dipped aching feet in for a while. Floyd talked about how the silt from the bottom of streams like this was good for disguise because the smell covered the stink of man and replaced it with a boggy old scent of something rotting.

Foolishly Spencer was thinking that finally Floyd was talking to him. Just talking. Chatting about things… about his past, about how he survived for so long alone in the forests when he was younger. He was completely unaware that this was not at all for his benefit but for Sam's. Spencer wanted to stay the night at the stream, but Floyd was having none of it. He insisted that they kept moving on. They filled water bottles, washed grubby skin and Spencer even let Floyd use one of the disposable razors he'd bought and give him a shave. Floyd didn't let him down. There was no gushing blood, just a nice clean shave. Floyd then allowed Spencer to do the same to him, who didn't really need a shave, but Spencer asked very nicely if it would be alright to shave off the moustache Floyd had been carefully growing. He allowed it. To Spencer it was some kind of weird male bonding. Trust though was the main issue here. Spencer trusted that Floyd wouldn't try to slice his throat open and Floyd knew that Spencer wouldn't dare try to do such to him. One sided trust maybe.


	24. Chapter 24

24

Sam spent about an hour at the stream. He drank till his stomach hurt and then hurled it all up again. He wiped mud over his arms and the lower parts of his legs which were uncovered. He wiped the smelly muck over his face and then rubbed it into his hair. He stuck leaves on the mud and twisted leaves through his hair. Sam sniffed at the ground Floyd had been sitting on and then sat and stared in the direction he had to walk and let himself have a self pitying cry.

When he'd been slung over Floyd's back, Floyd had had very quiet whispered words with him. He'd told him what to do and how to do it and Floyd had even suggested that at the end of the trial the buggers in charge might even let him have a proper existence. How much of it was true he didn't know.

When Sam had been slung over Floyd's shoulder, Floyd had very quiet whispered words with him. Floyd needed Sam. He needed Sam like he needed life… almost like he needed Spencer. He also needed a way to keep both of them in the right place. This was an idea which came to him suddenly. Floyd told Sam that if he carried out a certain list of instructions and if he did his job well then the powers who be might give him what he craved. Floyd failed to tell Sam that was dope, or chocolate, or a smoke… He didn't actually _tell_ Sam that he'd get a soul… he never would say that because it just wasn't going to happen, and if by some odd chance Sam _did_ get one, then that little soul would be the first on Floyd's _to eat_ list. No… Floyd had not said that. Floyd had just let Sam believe that. Now he had the little shit doing whatever he was told to do because he thought he was going to get what he could never have. What he would get at the end of it would probably be quite a few more track marks and a stay at an eating disorder clinic. As for Spencer? Well this little exercise was going to scare the shit out of him and have him realise how much he needed Floyd; how he needed Floyd to protect him and keep him safe. Spencer would offer his arse to him in gratitude and maybe even sign his own little soul away by putting his name on the dotted line.

So far it was working. He had Spencer needing him for protection and Sam needing him to show him how to get that very evasive soul. He was in no real hurry to find civilization. He wanted to drag this little adventure out for as long as he could.

That night Floyd made a small camp off to the side of the road. They'd seen not one car in all the time they'd been walking down it. There wasn't even any road kill so it must have been a long old while since something had been this way. But then this was one of the back tracks and not really a main road. They set up camp early enough for Floyd to be able to catch things in his snares. They cooked not very tasty meat over the fire on little green sticks and then until it got dark they again played cards on the understanding that neither of them cheated. Of course both did… and both knew that the other was. As the fire burnt down they crawled into the camp made of tree branches and sticks and curled up happily together.

Sam sneaked into the camp and took the left over food and sat listening to the grunting and yelps from under the cover Floyd had made. He was tempted to pick up a burning brand and set the pair of them alight. Though he was working on gaining what he'd always wanted and had to follow his instructions, it still irked him that it wasn't him in there being made to yelp. He rubbed his hand over the back of his head and then walked back out into the shadows. Then he started what he'd been told to do.

Spencer had been given what he begged for… including a lot of pain… Floyd was about it finish the game for him with his tongue sliding over Spencer's tummy, when the noise outside began. It gave Floyd the excuse to leave Spencer unsatisfied. He would come begging for more later and it would be refused, but for now Floyd pulled his jeans back together and he pulled out the flashlight.

Sam was making odd yapping noises. They carried on for a while and then changed to small screams… again animalistic sounds… Once again Floyd offered to go and look and once again Spencer was pulling Floyd back into his arms.

'No… don't go out there. If that's Sam making that noise then something is horribly wrong and if it's something else then we don't need to go running into its arms. Stay here.' Though Spencer was trying to make his words sound untroubled they still came out slightly wobbly.

'It's further away than last night.' Floyd slipped back to wrap his arms around Spencer. 'We should sleep.' And there it was; Spencer's frustrated, pissed off, needy face. It was an expression which Floyd adored.

'Can we just ignore that noise and…'

'… Sleep… yes.'

'I was thinking.'

'Dangerous. Very silly thing to do babes. You'll start getting those headaches again and think you're going bonkers. You don't want that do you? No, you don't. Lay down with me and let me just hold you. I'll keep my ears open for things going on out there. Sleep. Long walk tomorrow and you're bleeding again. I'd say _sorry_ but… well no need to explain that huh?'

'Floyd…'

'No need to thank me sweets. No need. I do this because I love you almost as much as I love myself and that is a fucking _huge_ amount. I'll show you how much… look… I'll take my boots off.'

Spencer sighed. 'I'm stripped naked and you've still got your boots on.' He remarked.

'Because I like screwing you with my clothes on. It feels so darned dirty babes. I've fucked a lot of whores in my time but it's you who really makes me feel like this. Come on and sleep my darling little slut. Sleep and heal and tomorrow you'll be ready for me to service you again.'

'I'm not tired.' Spencer argued with a smile on his face.

Floyd pulled Spencer over on to his back and sat astride his hips. 'Not tired and ready for more I see. Dirty, dirty little whore boy, always up for more. Never satisfied.' The smirk on Floyd's face suddenly turned to a frown. 'Babes… why is it you're twitching and begging me for more? Do I not satisfy you? Am I not good enough for you? I've not made you feel tired? You've hardly drawn a sweat. What the fuck is going on here? I used to have you and you'd be done and happy with it… yet tonight I'm not what you want?'

'You…' Spencer swallowed and heard the loud dry click at the back of his throat. 'You get me… you're better… no… not better… damn. Floyd you're confusing me. You just seem to turn me on so much when you're being protective like this.'

Floyd's frown deepened. He drew in the smell coming from Spencer and tried to detect the lie which was obviously there, but no… Spencer seemed to be telling the truth. 'Oh… So all I have to do to get you begging for me is to rescue you from danger?'

'Seems so.' Spencer smiled.

'Well as I've been rescuing you a lot recently I think I have a lot of hard work on my plate… or a lot of hard Spencer in my mouth. HA!' How could Floyd resist giving Spencer what he wanted when he used such sweet words on him?

And so again Sam sat alone and listened with his anger deepening. The need to go and have a look wasn't there today. The need to listen to them wasn't there either. Sam wanted Floyd to get the hell out of there and come and fuck _him_. He was aching for it. His mouth dried up and he started to grind his teeth and curl his toes into the dirt. This had been fun last night. Tonight though… no… this wasn't fun. This was a hell of a long way from being fun and Sam didn't want to play this game any more. Sam wanted to play his own games and not the ones laid down by Floyd. Once the camp fell into complete silence and Sam had smoked the cheroots Floyd had left him he crept into the camp and with a long stick drew demonic patterns into the dirt around the fire. He placed animal bones in random places… he left a dead bird in the centre of one of the patterns and a stone in the centre of another. He then walked away again and hunkered down in the deep forest shadows until the morning. He wanted to be close enough to hear Spencer's panic in the morning. He also spent some time to give a little prayer to the things he was under the illusion he was trying to please by playing Floyd's game. Nothing answered him. Nothing was listening.

o-o-o

'Oh god.'

That was what Spencer said when he saw what had been done in the night.

'Nothing to panic over.' But Floyd inspected the patterns very closely.

'I recognise that.' Spencer pointed to the swirls in the dirt which were closest to where they'd been sleeping. 'I've seen that design before and it's not a protection symbol.'

'Ah hu.' Floyd rubbed at his nose and looked at it. 'I knew a witch once. She could sort of read futures and see past and pick up on calamities about to take place. She was OK and seemed to know her stuff. I'm sure I saw her do this one. It's nothing to worry about.'

'It's a curse.' Spencer was pretty confident about that.

'Ah hu.' Floyd said again. 'Well it didn't stop us from having a good time last night did it? I can still taste you in my mouth. Don't think I'm going to be eating today… need that to last. I can smell you on my clothes too. Fucking brilliant.'

Ignoring Floyd's vulgarity, Spencer said. 'I don't like the thought that someone was creeping around here last night putting some sort of curse on us.'

'Not on me Spence. I'm already cursed to the extreme. Nothing placed on me would have any effect. You though… maybe you? Careful what you eat today and don't go wandering off.'

Once again Floyd managed to keep a serious face and let his laughter stay internalised.

'Thank you for the moral support Floyd.' Spencer snapped. 'Whether this works or not and I'd say _not_, someone was still here. Shadows cant draw in the dirt and they cant place dead animals there either.'

'Nor can they tie someone to a chair with barbed wire or slam and lock doors, but you know that they can. So stop the dramatics and pull your self together. They only come at night, if that's what's doing this and I have strong doubts about that, and they've not hurt us. This is infantile threats which wont work on me and shouldn't be bothering you. You're a man who likes to see facts. You shouldn't be concerned about marks left in the dirt, even if you somehow think you've seen them before, which you haven't, but if you want to believe you have and you want to piss yourself with fear, then go ahead.' He paused as Spencer moved in closer to the scribble in the dirt. 'Don't touch it!' Floyd quickly stopped Spencer. 'Just in case you know?'

So the day started out good and didn't get any better. Reid was jumping at every crack of a twig and ducked a few times when something flew out of the trees or bushes. He yelped in surprise when a bramble snagged his pants and when he could he was holding tightly onto Floyd's hand like a scared child. Sam had done a good job so far. Floyd was proud of his little protégé. Floyd though was unaware that with every contented step he was taking Sam was taking a couple of short angry, very pissed off ones. The three of them walked through part of the forest. Floyd had easily persuaded Spencer that the road curved and they would get somewhere quicker by cutting off the bends. Spencer was so jumpy and now becoming tired and confused that he didn't notice that the direction they were walking in had slightly changed. Not by much. Floyd knew that if the chances he took were too big Spencer would maybe notice. Therefore with the road slowly disappearing behind them Floyd was leading an unaware Spencer deeper into the forest.

That evening when Floyd made camp and prepared food, he gave Spencer something a little special. He spiked his forest tucker with something which would increase Floyd's ability to walk Reid around in circles for days and not have him notice. It made Spencer feel drowsy but at the same time hyper vigilant. He could hardly keep his eyes open, but still every sound and breath made was sending out alarm bells. Spencer felt his muscles contract ready to leg it away and no amount of soothing talk from Floyd was making any difference.

'It's going to be fine babes. I wont let anything get you. You know I'd not let anything hurt you. Even if they encircle us I will die before I let them tear you apart.' Those sort of soothing words. When that didn't work, Floyd offered Spencer something to chew on. 'It will calm you down.'

'I don't take drugs.' Spencer tried to remind Floyd.

'Yes you do.' Again he sat across Spencer's hips. He held a squashy bit of something between his teeth. 'Let me feed it to you… You'll enjoy it.'

Spencer refused. He wasn't about to let Floyd drug him. Floyd already _had_ but he was unaware of that for now. He wriggled under Floyd as Floyd brought his face down close to his. He didn't remember much else. The head butt he took sent him spinning into darkness. He didn't feel Floyd force his mouth open and stick the fungus deep into his throat… He didn't feel Floyd make sure that he swallowed it. He didn't feel Floyd turn him over and rape him either… but that was one thing he knew had happened when he finally woke up in the morning. He also had a suspicion that Floyd had hit him… he had a nasty bruise on his chin and his bottom lip was split – and his pants were around his thighs.

'I didn't fucking touch you!' Floyd insisted when Spencer made his foggy voiced accusations. 'You feel asleep and I sat guard all night… well until I fell asleep too. I was only asleep for a couple of fucking hours. Fucking hours obviously being the operative phrase here.'

It was a lie and Spencer knew it was a lie. There was no point in arguing though. There didn't really seem to be much point in anything at all. Spencer munched down on the small things Floyd presented to him without further discussion and spent the following day walking in a haze of confusion. He tripped and fell a few times. He walked into a tree. He got snarled up in undergrowth and had to have Floyd pull him out, but apart from those things he didn't really remember much but a deep uncontrollable fear that something was out there and following them and would get them when it was ready. He had a pounding headache too, which didn't help the situation any. His thoughts went back to his mother again and again. He tried to work out what day of the week it was and he couldn't. He wondered what week they were in and couldn't do that either. He didn't even know what month it was anymore, and suddenly he stopped walking and made a deep down keening sound.

'Now what the fuck is wrong?' The ever sympathetic Floyd asked.

'I'm losing my mind.' Spencer told Floyd. 'I cant remember what year this is… what season we are in… things are going…'

Floyd guided Spencer down to sit and sat down facing him. He took Spencer's hands in his and looked carefully into his eyes. 'You know babes, that I've told you over and again that you're not your mother. You got past the critical age with nothing.' Spencer nodded. 'So the chances are slim. You got through drug rehab and nothing showed… you're not going to end up like your mother.'

'But I feel…'

'Don't fucking interrupt me. You're not going to end up like your mother, but considering all the head injuries and damage which must have happened during vile attacks on your pretty form I'd not be too surprised if you slipped into a different sort of insanity. You might not end up like mother, but you're very likely to end up a drooling loon all of your own. Damned lucky that you like it up the arse… You don't want to risk passing down this delicate insanity to a child. Your parents were very stupid having you. They should have aborted you. I suppose that's something to think about? Accept what you've got babes, cos you should never have been allowed to live in the first place. It's been obvious since you were a nipper that you were different. This world doesn't accept that. Everyone has to be the same. You have to have the same ideas, go to church, have a barbeque on a Sunday afternoon, listen to light rock, drink decaf, drive a nice car and mow your lawn at least once a week. You cant have your hair long if you want to be respected. You have to dress a certain way, look a certain way. That's how the world is now. It's fucked up and wrong… I'll give you that much, but it's how it is. You babes, are different. That's all. You've tried fitting in by getting your hair cut… and what happened? Well you're still as bonkers as you were before. Now you have to get over it and just get on with life with the idea that you really should never have been conceived.'

'But…'

Floyd placed a finger over Spencer's lips. 'Hush… I know what it's like to be different. We're both fortunate that our blood line ends with us I guess. Mine was sort of carried on with Sammy boy for a short while but that's ended too.' Floyd signed deeply and pulled out a smoke. 'Join me?' He passed one to Spencer who took it from Floyd and nodded. 'I'll always be here for you Spencer. Always be here to help you over the hurdles.'

'I know.' Spencer whispered. 'I need to get out of this forest. I need a bed and a shower and proper food. I think once that's done I'll be able to think straight again.'

That evening Floyd found a fallen tree with a small hollow under it. It was enough room for them both to crawl and snuggle together. Floyd listened out for Sam and heard his trampling heavy through the undergrowth. He heard ripping tearing noises and small yelps and cries. Spencer heard it too, and curled up tighter with Floyd, saying nothing. He thought maybe it was his imagination, though he knew that the things being thrown at the van hadn't been, or the symbols drawn in the earth… all of that had been real enough, but tonight with Floyd's arms tightly around him he decided that he was going insane and that those sounds which were just a bit too close to their tree home were imaginary. Floyd didn't seem to react to them. Floyd had also found something to aid in pushing back his headache and it seemed to be working. He fell asleep with Floyd's hot breath on the back of his neck and a finger circling slowly around his left nipple.

Sam wasn't happy. Sam was becoming more and more disillusioned with this game. He hung the insides of animals around the tree, in the branches. He put bits of chewed up things around the entrance of the little camp they had. He stood there and looked down into the shadows they were sleeping in and contemplated joining them, but he couldn't. He had to keep doing this if he was going to be saved. His heart pounded in his chest and his eyes leaked water and his nose ran. Sam wanted those arms to be around _him_ and not around Spencer and tomorrow he was going to get that. Come hell or high-water he was going to get Floyd to give him what he'd been giving Spencer. He picked up the few berries and things which Floyd had left for him and threw them into the undergrowth. He didn't want to eat Floyd's stuff. He had been tricked by him… he was sure of it. He thought back to the rat poison in the sandwiches and the coffee which had been spiked and his top lip curled in annoyance. 'Mother fucking cunt.' Sam muttered, turned and walked back into the forest. 'Tomorrow.' He whispered. Sam then looked into the shadows. 'You gonna help me out here or what? It's not like Spencer is one of us is it? He's just some fucking bellend who Floyd likes to humiliate. Give me a go! You owe me.'

o-o-o

Reid was entitled to be freaked out by what Sam had done that night. The display, as Spencer saw it, was a warning. To Floyd he saw a Sam who was going beyond the call of duty.

'I'm not paranoid!' Spencer howled at Floyd when Floyd told him he was.

'You're acting like you are.' Floyd shrugged on his bag and got ready to leave.

'Whatever is doing his we need to try to communicate with it.'

Floyd raised an eyebrow at Spencer. 'You want to communicate with something which creeps around in the dark and leaves us gifts like Santa? What the hell for?'

'Ask it what it wants. Do something! You must be able to do something and they are _not_ gifts. This isn't some cat bringing home a mouse, this is something dark, evil and demonic.'

Another raised eyebrow from Floyd. 'So am I.'

There seemed no point in talking about it. Spencer snatched the small parcel of food out of Floyd's hand and munched down on the slightly sour berries, leaves and fungus. 'Where's the road? I want to get back on the road. I felt like I was nearing civilization… now it just feels like I'm in the middle of nowhere again. Can we _please_ find somewhere, Floyd? I stink, I'm constantly hungry, and…' He paused and spun around looking into the shadows of the trees. '… What was that? There's something there. Floyd there's something there watching us, following us…'

'For the love of fucking fuck! There's nothing there! You're imagining it. I think you may be correct though. You stink. The smell of paranoia is pouring from your skin Spencer. There's nothing out there. Nothing is coming to get you. And I know you're going to ask what left those things behind, but I don't know. It's not going to hurt us. If it could it would have already. Probably some hunter wanting to see the city boy wet his pants, and you're giving him the satisfaction. Why look at me like that? What's that fucking face for?' Floyd and turned to look in the direction he thought Sam was and he called out. 'Ahoy out there, whoever you are, show your self and stop fucking around.' He then turned back to Spencer. 'Happy now? Satisfied? No you're not are you? Shit on a stick Spencer you're sodding impossible to please. You and your imagination, which funnily enough never used to exist, are going to be your undoing.'

And so they carried on walking and Sam carried on following, only now Sam had a good idea about what he was going to do next.

o-o-o

The idea came to Sam when someone stepped out in front of him and prodded him in the stomach with a long sharp stick.

'We've been watching you.' The voice of a tall skinny man wearing what appeared to be animal furs said.

Sam said nothing.

'We've been watching you for a few days.'

Sam still said nothing but nodded slowly.

'You harry the enemy.'

'What's what I'm doing got to do with you? And they're not necessarily the enemy.' Sam spoke low.

'Not necessarily the enemy? You make a good job of worrying the taller one.'

Sam cocked his head to the side and frowned. 'I still don't know what the fuck it's got to do with you. I need to go.' Sam went to take a step away, but that pointy stick jabbed at his stomach again.

'My boys and me, we had a meeting. We had a discussion on the matter of you and those others.'

'I'm glad I gave you something to relieve your boredom but I really need to leave. Can you stop prodding me with that stick? It hurts.'

The stick was lowered and Sam suddenly found he was surrounded by men wearing a mix of animal skins and leather. 'I was going to offer you something.' A big bloke with long straggly dark hair and a beard said. 'We like to play games you see. We _love_ to play games.'

Sam let tears fall and snot bubble from his nose. He plopped down to his knees and begged for his life. 'I know I don't look like much but I'm valuable. You could get a good ransom from me. I'm a friend of a Federal Agent. I can give you his phone number. Please don't rape me or hurt me! And please, please, for the love of the gods don't drug me. I'm innocent! I didn't do it! I didn't want to go there in the first place and I'll never go back again. I didn't know he was your brother, sister, mother, father, cousin… whatever he or she was… It was a mistake! I'm the victim here. I just want to go home to my mother and father and feel safe.' He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. 'They kidnapped me. They took me and drove me in that van and then abandoned me. There will be a reward.' Still the men said nothing. 'There will be a reward.' Sam hissed. 'A big reward. I'm a genius. I'm fucking fabulous too, when I've had a wash.'

'We don't want you boy. You're no use to us. Skinny little beast that you are, but if you do something for us we maybe wont kill you. How does that sound?'

'Well it sounds rather wondrous really, considering what options are available. I do declare that I might take you up on your offer.' He paused and looked around at the feral men surrounding him. 'I guess running is going to be out of the question? Yes thought so. What do you want me to do then? I should tell you now that if it's to kill Floyd then I'm going to have to scream my lungs out right now and warn him that you're here.'

They wanted to know who the two men were who Sam was following. Sam thought about this carefully for maybe a full second. 'Floyd is the dark haired one. The other one is Reid and he's a fucking shit. He's coerced my dad into abandoning me here. He wants him all to himself. Reid is a Fed. He'll have codes and phone numbers and all sorts of sensitive shit in his head. I just want my dad back.' Sam finished in a sulky voice.

They pulled Sam up to his feet and in a flash had his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth. Sam kicked and wriggled and cried and tried to get away, but he knew that he was not going to be able to do it. He thought he'd be dragged back to some mad woodman's hut and be used as a sex slave for the rest of his life, but that's not actually what happened next.

'You will do as you're told or you will die.' The big bloke informed him. 'If you attempt to raise the alarm and let them know we are following you will die. If you don't follow every order we give you, you will die and you will die slowly and I'll make sure that you're awake for every slap, bone crunching battering, slice and humiliation. Do you understand me?' Sam gave a quick nod 'If I remove that gag are you going to call for help?'

Sam nodded again and the gag was removed. 'What's the fucking point in calling for help? I've been calling Floyd every night and he just stays with Reid and does nothing. He's not going to remember I even exist until I find a way to actually remind him. You help me do that and I'll help you get your hands on that valuable agent.'

'Son, I think we need to see how it goes. Get walking.'

It was very easy to follow Spencer and Floyd. Floyd was still not leaving much of a trail, but Spencer certainly was. He spent a lot of time untangling himself from various plants which Spencer thought were actually leaping out to get him. Floyd helped the first few times and then decided to let Spencer sort him self out, so took the small breaks as a chance to sit and watch and have a quick smoke.

Spencer knew now that the forest was haunted. It was the only explanation he could think of. The trees leaned down and swiped at his head. The ground bucked and swayed under his feet. Occasional trees jumped out in front of him. Birds frequently attempted to get close enough to take out his eyes. The insects started biting. Things managed to get inside his canvas foot ware and cause blistering and bleeding. Something droned constantly in his ear.

For two hours it amused Floyd to let Spencer take the lead. They walked in a big sweeping circle and ended up back where they'd started.

'I recognise this place.' Spencer flopped to the forest floor. 'Floyd… please, we need to find the road.'

Floyd shrugged. 'What's the hurry? Do you want to rest? Stay here the night? I'll make a nice camp and make a fire and all that shit and you just sit there and do nothing.' Spencer nodded. 'I mean it Spencer. Just do what you do every night and sit and watch.' Again Spencer nodded and Floyd started to grind his teeth. 'Let me do all the work. I seem to be the only man here.'

Still the words were lost on Spencer; whether it would have been usually or if it was the fog Floyd had drugged Spencer into, he wasn't sure, but he did know it was annoying him. He pulled out a scrap of paper from his pack and scrawled some words on it and then began to walk out of the small clearing they were going to make camp in.

'What's that? What are you doing?'

Floyd turned back again and dropped the paper on Spencer's lap. 'I'm doing what you wanted me to do.' Floyd snapped.

Spencer picked up the paper and read the note. _I've had enough of your games. Show yourself tonight._ Short and to the point.

Reid sighed and handed it back again. 'If someone I following us they will know we want to make contact. It's what you wanted. Everything I do is because you want it. I'm just trying to show you that I love you babes.'

Thinking what a stupid lazy arse Spencer was, Floyd started to prepare camp. He placed the note on a fallen tree and placed a large stone on the top of the note to hold it in place. He then stood for a while and stared at the ground. Floyd turned and looked at Spencer, at his feet in particular, he glanced down at his own and then back at the ground. Someone with large feet had been through here recently. A closer look around the perimeter and noted more evidence that someone had been here. More than one person. Running his fingers over the disturbed earth and lifting his fingers to his face let him know that at least one of the people was Sam. Floyd raised an eyebrow at this, but for now put it to the back of his mind. He did what he said he would do and set up a nice camp for the night. There was shelter made of tree branches and twigs, a fire, snares set and now time to relax with his almost favourite person resting in his arms. Floyd decided that tomorrow they'd go back to the road. Spencer was a twitching wreck. The object of the exercise had been achieved. At least with Spencer it had been. Later he was going to have a different sort of exercise with Sam. At least that's what he was hoping.


	25. Chapter 25

25

Once under shelter they touched and teased each other, but Spencer was too stressed to be able to do much. Floyd needed Reid to sleep, but he didn't want to drug him further and so it was a loving massage of the feet, legs, butt, back, shoulders and neck which Floyd gave Spencer until the breathing changed to that deep sleep filled breaths he always had just prior to falling into the crazy dreams.

Floyd slid silently out of the shelter and sat at the entrance for a few minutes, just to ensure that Spencer didn't awaken. He then stood and walked to a tree on the other side of the fire. On the way over he picked up a couple of tree branches from a small pile and added them to the fire. Floyd sat at the base of the tree and looked across the clearing to the shelter and waited. He smoked four of his never ending supply of cheroots before Sam showed himself. Sam walked over slowly and quietly and handed over the note to Floyd. 'You wanted to talk to me?' He whispered as he knelt down in front of Floyd.

'Yeah, I need to talk to you. Tomorrow I'm heading back to the road again. There's a place only a few miles in that direction.' Floyd pointed. 'You cant follow.'

Sam rested his hands on Floyd's knees. 'And why cant I follow? How else am I going to keep Spencer amused every morning?'

Floyd's hands rested over Sam's. 'Well that's kind of the point, Sammy. You did a good job. It ends now. Go back.'

Small dirty, but pale fingers dug into Floyd's knees. 'Go back where? I've not got no place to go back to, unless you mean college and I don't think they'll have me back.'

Floyd sighed and licked his lips. 'I just need you out of the way for a little while. I need time just with Spencer to cement what's been started here. He needs me, Sam. You can cope out here alone. You've proved that much; just don't go around killing folks. Live out here for a year or so and I'll come back for you.'

'A year? Out here? Alone? On my own? With no one else? What the fuck? I'm not staying out here alone and you don't need Spencer if you've got me. Have you forgotten how happy I can make you? Have you forgotten all those lovely treats I know about? You cant really believe that you can just abandon me out here.'

There was a nod from Floyd as he removed his hands away from Sam's. 'It boils down to the fact that I cant handle you both. Now I've thought about this carefully, don't think I've not. The decision on what to do has been doing my bloody head in, boy, but you're just this little slut boy with a willing arse. There's no… no fight in you. I cant look at you with pride and know that I've battered and smacked you into place 'cos you've always been in that place. You're just a whore. A lovely little cuntboy, but I need to feel that… power? Is that the correct word? I need to feel that I have pushed you into submission… That's what I get with Spence. That's what I need. You're too easy.'

'You like easy.' Sam hissed. His hands moved too. They moved to the belt Floyd was wearing. 'You've just forgotten how good it is to be sucked off by me. Let me remind you.'

Floyd placed a hand on the top of Sam's dirty head. He had been meaning to grab his hair and pull him away. For the first time in Floyd's life he was going to turn down a blow job because he had a slight niggling feeling of guilt… At least he thought that sick feeling was guilt. The hand though didn't pull Sam away. Sam's little fingers moved with professional speed and though Floyd was muttering. 'Get the hell off me. Get off. Don't do that. Fucking shit in hades, get off me!' But Sam didn't get off him and that hand was forcing Sam's head further into position. Even if Sam had wanted to stop now it wouldn't have been possible.

Sam didn't want to stop though.

Spencer stirred and rolled over in the shelter. He reached out for Floyd and found he was gone. Slowly Spencer sat up and then crawled from the shelter and his eyes locked on what he could see the other side of the fire. His ears locked on a few words which drifted over… 'Stop… Get off…' with a few curse words in the mix of grunting and yelps and as Spencer picked up a stout bit of wood from next to the fire there was a low growling howl coming from Floyd. Spencer could see that Floyd was sitting and he could see something… some dark demonic thing on him. In Spencer's confused head it was something from the shadows. It was the thing which had been leaving warnings. It was the devil creature or the thing from the shadows and whatever it was doing to Floyd would have to stop.

The first Floyd knew that something was wrong was Sam biting down.

The next thing he heard was someone screaming. The teeth let go, Floyd howled in pain. Sam was ripped away from him… and now it was Spencer who was screaming.

The first Sam knew that something was wrong was when something hard hit him over the back of the head. He _did_ bite down… though he didn't have time to work out if he'd drawn blood or not. He was being pulled away and again something was hitting him. It smacked down across his face, it smashed at his hands as he tried to defend himself. It cracked him in the mouth (and he heard something inside his skull shatter). It was the smack after the one to his jaw and mouth though which stopped the pain and let Sam drift off somewhere a bit less uncomfortable.

'Spencer!' Floyd was on his knees trying to snag at Reid who had flown into such a wild rage that he couldn't hear anything anymore. The length of wood just carried on smacking down on Sam. 'Spencer it's Sam!' Floyd had one hand holding carefully onto his groin and the other managed to grab a hold of Spencer. 'For the love of fuck what have you done?'

It was those words which Floyd was screaming which finally filtered through Spencer's drugged mind. He dropped the length of wood and turned to look at Floyd. 'It was… it… it was…'

'Sam! He was giving me a blow job you stupid son of a bitch! If you've hurt him… may the gods help you Reid.'

Spencer turned back to look at the mud and blood splattered thing laying still on the ground. 'Sam?' He shook his head. 'No… no it…'

'He fucking bit my cock! I'm bleeding!' Floyd crawled forward to look at what Spencer had done. 'You fucking idiot! You stupid motherfucking cunt!' Slowly Floyd got to his feet. 'I was telling him… I'd just finished telling him that I wanted you. I'd just told him. He was trying to persuade me otherwise.' Floyd cocked his head to one side. 'Doesn't matter how far you run or for how long you run… I'm going to come after you and slowly tear you apart with my bare hands. You're a dead man Reid.'

This was bad. This was very bad. Floyd was calling him _Reid_. 'I didn't know!' Spencer was already taking steps away from Floyd who was pulling the limp battered Sam onto his own painful lap.

'Well you do now. Run pretty boy. Run for your fucking life. No one takes what's mine. Not even you.'

'He'll be all right Floyd. Sam's tough.'

'Fuck off! Go! Leave me. He could have bitten the best part of me off when you smacked him on the head. My pain is caused by you. Understand me Spencer? Do you _understand?_ Run… I'll at least give you a while to re-gather your thoughts. I don't want to have to kill you when you've not had the chance to think about what you just did.' He paused and looked down at what was left of Sam's face. 'But so help me Spencer, I promise I'll come after you. And you know I always keep a promise.' The matter that Floyd had caused Spencer's confusion and paranoia didn't matter. Nothing mattered now except that Spencer had done this to his Sam. Had Sam done this to Spencer it would likely have had the same results. Both of them were Floyd's. No one takes what is Floyd's. No one who wants to live.

'I'm sorry!' Spencer felt the pointless words coming out of his mouth as he took another step away from Floyd. 'Please…'

'Fuck off!' Floyd bellowed. 'Fuck the hell off away from me. Go back to Hotchner and cry on his shoulder and then get yourself life long security, cos I'm going to come for you Doctor Reid. Believe me… I'm gonna get you.'

'I didn't know!' Spencer shouted back at him. 'I would never hurt Sam. You know I'd never hurt him. I thought he was dead!'

'Well he sure as hell is now!'

'He cant be…' Spencer looked at his hands and saw the blood splatter on them and on his shirt sleeves. 'I thought he was killing you.'

'Only you can kill me with your mouth, and that's not meant as a compliment. Get the hell out of my sight. I don't want you hanging around while I do what I need to do here. Leave. Be grateful that I'm letting you live for now. Always watch your back though babes. Keep your windows and doors locked, not that doing that makes a difference. I'm gonna come and tear your sweet murdering hide apart and make me a new belt and cheroot case from your skin. Get the fuck out! What are you looking at?'

'It's dark.' Spencer whispered, but he turned, picked up his backpack and walked slowly away.

'Run you motherfucker! Run to fucking Hotchner. Get back to your little Fed buddies and cry into their arms. Explain to them what the hell you did and see if they give you sympathy. I'm sure Agent Aaron Hotchner will have a few words to say to you… a cock to comfort you with! And if when I come for you Reid, if you smell of Hotchner he'll die too.'

Floyd didn't bother to watch Spencer run. He could hear he was running. Like the coward he was. Like the scalded child he was running back to where he belonged. Back to the world of serial killers and rapists. Or was he running from serial killers and rapists? Floyd didn't care. He didn't care when he heard Spencer yelp… or when he heard the crashing around and what sounded a bit like someone running into a lot of trees. Floyd would get Spencer for this. Spencer was going to do a hell of a lot of _making up_ to get back on the good side of Floyd.

Reid ran… but not far. He didn't run into a tree. He ran into the willing and open arms of some fur clad hunters.

o-o-o

Floyd did what he had to. He sat for a while looking at the direction Spencer had gone in and half expected him to return with a bloody nose and an apology, but after ten minutes or so the forest had fallen back into a silence only broken by the crackling of the fire and odd noises coming from himself. He would deny strongly that he was maybe crying. There was no one here – alive – to say he was anyway. Who would dare even suggest such a thing.

He placed Sam on the ground next to the fire and prepared him. It was a messy job, but in a way Sam deserved what was done to him. It was really what he'd done to some of those soldiers not so many days ago. He tore open the chest, removed the heart, and sat at the side of the dying fire and munched down. Floyd then dragged Sam into the shelter he'd made for himself and Spencer and laid him on his back. He covered him in leaves and twigs and pulled a bit of cloth out of his bag and covered Sam's face. He didn't talk. He groaned softly occasionally. The rest of the night he sat outside the shelter with his back to the entrance and looked at the fire which was very rapidly burning down. Floyd would have liked to have been able to blame Spencer for all of this. He would have liked to have gone after him _now_ and shown him his wrath, but there was a niggling feeling that if he'd not kept Spencer drugged, confused and paranoid this might not have happened. If he'd not told Sam to increase the paranoia by completing his night time tasks this might not have happened. If he'd not lied to Spencer this might not have happened. If he'd not gotten that last blow job off Sam this might not have happened. He wriggled closer to the fire and knelt so that he could inspect the damage done. 'I'm not going to be able to fuck for a month of buggering Sundays.' He moaned.

Floyd's anger at Spencer dissipated. Not because he was less sure that it was Spencer's fault. Not that he understood that Spencer thought he was saving him from something vile which had crept out of the shadows, but because he had a sudden fear that Sam had passed some nasty arse to mouth disease onto him.

Floyd stayed at the campsite until Sam began to make smells which Floyd didn't much want to smell. He went to into the forest and picked some wild flowers and tossed them into the shelter. 'There you go Sammy. When you're ready… come back to me huh?' Floyd walked away. He didn't walk in the direction Spencer had gone, but slightly more westerly and towards the road which he'd been avoiding. Now was time to get back to the city and get things sorted.

o-o-o

In the first instance, Spencer thought he'd run into solid shadow. He thought they'd found him and were going to kill him there in the dark where he stood. It might have been better if he'd been right. The band of rag tag men did to Spencer much as they had previously done to Sam. He had hands tied behind his back and a gag stuffed in his mouth and tied into place. They propelled him along through the forest at a speed which was more like one Floyd would have taken than he would have. He wanted to ask who the hell they were. He wanted to ask what they wanted, but he couldn't. He saw no point in trying to fight his way out of this. There were too many of these unshaven brutes for him to be able to even contemplate running. Where would he run to? Back to Floyd? They dragged and pulled him through the forest until the morning light came up and only then did they let him sit. They untied his hands and removed the gag and offered him water. He sipped it cautiously, but as he didn't gag on it or begin to feel sick, he figured it wasn't poisoned. Why drag him all the way out here just to poison him anyway.

'Doctor Reid.' A tall man took the small metal cup away from Spencer.

Reid's eyes went wide. They knew him? These people knew who he was? How was that possible? 'Erm.' He replied, not sure where this was going to go next.

'A Federal Agent.' The tall man now said and Spencer's heart leapt to his throat.

'What makes you think that? I was just out camping with my friend.'

'Oh we know all about you and your _friend_. Been following you for a few days. Sam told us quite a bit about you. Said you're worth money.'

Spencer stared at the man. 'Sam?'

'The lad whose brains you splattered over the forest. Surely you remember him?

'What do you want with me? Let me go. You've not hurt me as such.' He rubbed at his wrists. 'You can let me go and I'll find my way back to the road. No one needs to know what happened.'

'Well you sort of killed someone didn't you Doctor Reid? Could hand you in for some reward for that at least. That's if you're no good to ransom as a Fed.'

o-o-o

The next few days saw Spencer dragged to what appeared to be a rough hewn cave with a barred door. He was manacled to the rear wall by one ankle. Over in the other corner was a boy of about twelve years old also manacled to the wall. He was given food and water and a bucket to relieve himself in. Initially the lad didn't talk to him. He stayed as far away from Spencer as he could and eyed him with great caution. Spencer attempted to speak to him, but got nothing in reply to his questions.

'What is this place? How long have you been here? How many people are here? Are there any women? Do they keep you here, or let you out sometimes…' (He got the answer to that without having had a reply from the boy.) 'Do your parents know you're here? Have they hurt you? Why are you here?' When questions got him no where Spencer introduced himself. 'I'm Spencer. Do you have a name?' The boy shook his head. 'I'm from Vegas, have you ever been there?' The boy snorted an answer. 'I suppose it's not for everyone, but I like Vegas.' It went on like this for about an hour and then Spencer gave up for a while. The cave was about twenty foot square and the ceiling was about ten foot high. There was a pile of straw for Reid to sit on and though it was actually dry, it was scratchy and uncomfortable. He sat looking at the lad for a while and then thought of what he'd done to Sam. He talking inwardly to himself about how it couldn't have been Sam. It was impossible to have been, but if it wasn't, why was Floyd so angry? Spencer wasn't sure if anger was the right word though, it was more like shock. Floyd seemed maybe more upset than angry and why would he feel like that if it was just some random shadow demon thing?

This meant that it must have actually been Sam. The same Sam he'd sworn he would protect, even though he loathed him. Spencer then tried to reason with himself over what he'd done. Sam had after all slaughtered those poor men. But this just made Spencer feel that he was no better than Sam had been when he'd killed them. Killing someone who was unarmed… not just killing them, but battering them to death when they'd been no direct threat. It made Spencer feel sick. Then he more than felt it. He spent a while kneeling in front of his bucket, puking up the few bits of food he'd had.

The following day his answer about if the boy ever left the cave was answered. The barred door rattled open and a short plump hairy man collected the boy. Spencer listened out for screams but heard none. He'd been expecting to hear the sounds of a young person being tortured echoing through the cave complex, but the only thing he could hear was maybe the very distant sound of a motor cycle revving. During the time the boy was away Spencer had his bucket emptied and was given more food and water. He asked repeatedly where he was and what they wanted with him and he got not even a twitch for an answer. The cave Spencer was in faced a rock wall. There was nothing to see, but daylight of some kind did filter down to where he was. He thought he couldn't have been too far from the outside. All that time he'd been with Floyd he wanted shelter and roof over his head and now he had it, he wanted desperately to be with Floyd again. Floyd would rescue him. Maybe he'd rescue him just so he could be the one to kill him, but Spencer was sure that he would.

The boy returned and was attached back to the wall. Spencer could see that he looked tired and dirty.

'My name is Spencer.' He tried again.

'I know. You told me that already.'

'Do you have a name?'

He nodded this time. 'Adam.'

Now Spencer nodded too. 'Where did they take you? Are you all right?'

'And what's it to do with you? What can you do about anything?'

'I can listen to you. I can talk to you.' Spencer tried on a smile. 'Did they hurt you?'

'No. I've been chopping wood and getting food ready. They don't hurt me. Why would they hurt me? I do what they ask. I get food and water and sometimes something different to drink. I've nothing to complain about.' The lad then curled up on his straw and fell asleep.

Sleep didn't come as easily for Spencer. He too curled up, but tossed and turned and waited. Waited for Floyd to come to his rescue. Floyd almost always did. He tried not to keep replaying over and over in his head what he'd done to _Sam_. He attempted to convince himself that it wasn't Sam who he'd attacked. He tried to give himself a reason for what he'd done, but as the days and nights passed and the effects of the drugs Floyd had been giving him wore off the more he could see what had been going on. Now he could play back those nights Floyd _protected_ him when the haunting sounds had been going on in the forest. Now those noises sounded like Sam. The way the van had been attacked seemed like something Sam would do. The drawings in the dirt had been done by Sam. It was all Sam and Floyd knew it. Floyd had left a note to talk to the thing which had been following them _knowing_ it was Sam and knowing that Sam would come to him and give Floyd what he wanted. Why Floyd felt he had to play mind games like that was beyond Spencer, but maybe now he could see how dangerous it was to push the way he had. Spencer's wooziness had died off now and he had that post pounding headache feeling which he got after Floyd had been drugging him. This was what Sam had been worried about. Sam had been refusing to eat what Floyd had given him and Floyd had admitted that he drugged Sam. Spencer now wondered why he thought he was so special that Floyd wouldn't do the same to him. Spencer felt a deep growing anger. Floyd had pushed him to the very edge and when he finally slipped over the edge, Floyd had blamed him for it.

Spencer counted off on his fingers the days he was held in that cave. He reached the day he was going to have to move onto his toes when finally someone came to get him. They removed the manacle and escorted him out of the cave. Now he could see where he was. A large encampment. Wooden buildings, some with corrugated iron roofs and some with wooden roofs. These people seemed organised. They had electricity. They had a main road going through the middle. Some places were thick canvas tents. There didn't seem to be any women, but there were young boys and girls sitting in the dirt watching what was going on. No one seemed worried or upset at the situation. This was there home. Spencer was taken to a small log cabin and told to sit in a chair. There was a rough made table in front of him and sitting the other side of that table was a grey haired middle aged man with a patch over one eye. He looked at Spencer and sighed.

'Federal Agents are not good for ransom.' He informed Spencer. 'So I'm not even going to start to go in that direction.'

Spencer nodded. 'What do you want from me?'

'Names. Addresses. Passwords. Information.'

Spencer sat stock still and said nothing more.

o-o-o

Floyd walked down the road with a vast empty feeling inside.

He hitched a lift from a truck driver.

He didn't kill him. He didn't even hardly talk to him. Floyd thought that if he'd started a conversation with this large stomached man that he might have spilled everything in one long ear splitting scream, so Floyd just mumbled a general location he wanted to get to and said nothing else. He shared his cheroots. He drank a beer offered when they stopped off for an hour break, but he didn't have a conversation with this man. John Mayer was maybe one of the luckiest men ever born. He had a beautiful wife and four children of mixed genders. He had a small house which always had a smell of fresh baked bread about it. He had a small red car. He didn't argue with his wife and she didn't have affairs (as far as he knew). He also spent three days in the company of Floyd Flanders and lived to tell the tale. Not that there was much to tell. John Mayer dropped Floyd off at the outskirts of the city. He was going to take the truck back to the depot and then go home to his wife. They had planned a barbeque for that weekend. He thought of asking this strange silent, brooding man if he wanted to join them.

'You got somewhere to stay?' He enquired.

'Nu hu.' Floyd replied.

'You got money?' Damn… John was that nice you know? He offered Floyd twenty bucks, but Floyd turned it down.

'No ta.' He said. 'Have a nice day.' Floyd said as he slipped from the cab and shouldered his backpack. There was a vile waft of sweat and dirt which followed him. He gave John Mayer a small salute and a sideways smile and slammed the truck door. The truck moved away slowly and then turned a corner and was gone. Floyd never saw John Mayer again. That horrible empty place inside of Floyd had contained his need to do what came naturally to him and now it was gone. He needed to get that back again. He needed Sam back again. He needed Spencer back again. Floyd walked with his head down towards the city proper. It was a long walk but he didn't mind. It gave him time to think without having to worry about if he broke out into a howl of despair.

A very rare moment found Floyd using a public telephone. He rang Reid's apartment and reached the answer phone. Funny thing was that it was Floyd's voice which was on the recording. He pressed the button on the cradle and called a different number. It was Hotchner's home number. Again it was an answer phone, but this time it was some random voice which probably came with the phone telling him that there was no one there. 'Fuck.' Floyd muttered. He called Spencer's cell but knew he'd not answer it. He then stood in a dirty noisy street and wondered what to do next.

Floyd stood outside Spencer's apartment door. He looked at the scratches in the wood and ran a finger over them. He knocked. He could have broken in but he felt the need to knock. No one answered. There was no sound from the other side of the door. Spencer wasn't there. Floyd didn't think Spencer _had _been there. Floyd put that down to the fact that he'd threatened to kill him. 'Fuck.' He said again. That need to kill Spencer had died off slightly. He wanted to punish him… hell yes! But skin him? Probably… skin him alive… maybe not so much. Floyd rested his head on Spencer's door for a few minutes and then walked away again.

He headed for the dark back streets and alley ways. He skulked in empty door ways. He slid down behind big bins from the shops out front. He curled up in the filth and watched through the gap under the bin. He watched rats, some of which he snatched at and bit down on. He watched the feet of pimps and drug dealers but he didn't let on that he was there. He didn't sleep. He was waiting.

If Sam was going to be returned to him he would come to somewhere like this. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even this month or year, or even maybe not in the life time of most or any of the people here, but eventually he would return and he'd come looking for Floyd. He would sniff him out, and so Floyd gave up plenty for Sam to sniff. He urinated where he was curled up. He let his nose bleed on the rubbish behind the bins. He moved on without shouting or killing when the store owner came out to empty rubbish and saw Floyd laying there amongst old needles and a gross variety of other odds and ends. Floyd moved on. He found a new place to mark. He marked his territory with his smells. No one bothered him. Most of the regulars around here, the rent boys, the whores and junkies, they knew Floyd and they kept their distance and that was just fine with him. He kept his boots on. He found a woolly hat in his backpack and pulled it down over his filthy hair.

Floyd spent a whole month without fucking, killing, shouting, thieving, fighting or doing much but lurking in shadows waiting.

Floyd had originally thought that he could wait forever for his boys to come back to him. He could have waited until the earth crashed into the sun for his boys… but it was four weeks already, the earth hadn't crashed into the sun, Spencer hadn't come looking for him, and Sam hadn't been returned. Floyd was running out of patience. Floyd was feeling that the empty place inside was filling up. What it was filling up with was anger and greed but most of it was filled up with a hell of a big sulk. His dick still hurt. It hurt when he pissed. It was blinding agony when he masturbated… He thought it was time to visit a hospital and see if someone (a young fair haired male nurse maybe) could rub some ointment on it for him. The weird smell Floyd was carrying around was smelling sour. He left his manhood in his pants for a further week and let out tears of agony when he pissed himself and finally decided that, yes, his cock was rotting. Sam would pay for what he'd done… as soon as Sam was back here Floyd was going to beat the living shit out of the cock biting little dead cunt.

Then he'd hunt down Spencer and stuff a long red hot instrument of torture up his arse.

Firstly though, hospital.


	26. Chapter 26

26

'But he said!' Sam yelled at the big dark oily thing standing in front of him. 'He said if I did what I did then I'd get what I wanted!'

A syringe fell from the sky and landed at his grubby feet. 'Take it, rat.'

'Firstly I have to tell you that I'm not a rat, and secondly I don't want drugs, I want to be like everyone else!'

'You _are_ like everyone else, rat. At least everyone else where _you_ come from. Now stop complaining, take your gift and get back to your cell.'

'This isn't what I wanted! I was told by Floyd…'

'Floyd lied to you.'

'Oh my fucking god! Do you think I'm a moron? Why would he have lied to me? He gave me instructions on what to do and how to prove myself. He said that if I did all that he told me to then I'd get that which I most desire.'

'A cock up your arse and a needle in your arm.' The thing told Sam. 'There's no point in trying to deny that.'

'But I called to you and asked you and told you that I was doing this…'

'Apologies if we didn't take note of your whining, but you're just one small rat amongst a million other far worthy creatures. Go back to your cell and take your gift. Maybe if you're really lucky you'll have the other part of your request later.'

Sam shook his head but prodded at the syringe with his toes. 'I never asked for this.'

'But you will take it anyway. You will go and relieve your _poor_ sad spirit by getting off your face and presenting your backside to whomever and whatever requests it.'

'I demand to go back! You have to let me go back. That bastard smashed my face in. I have to be permitted to perform retribution upon him. I want to smash his ugly face in with a crow bar! I want to bite his dick off and stuff it in his mouth and…'

'So you don't want heroin?'

Sam bent down and stroked the syringe with his finger tips. 'So you will let me go and smack Reid if I don't take this?'

'No rat, you will be fucked, and then dismantled. Unless of course you can please a demon of sodomy, and I don't think you can. Take it and have a final high, or don't take it and feel every thrust of that long poisonous barbed member. It's your choice.'

Sam's fingers grasped the syringe. 'You mother fucking bastards! All of you! Every last fucking one of you! I wanted Floyd so badly! I wanted him and would have done about anything to have him want me back, but you're all fucking shits!' He stood up and looked at the thing through narrowed eyes. 'I hate you! It's not fair! When do I get a break! Why does everyone blame it all on me? It's not my fault! I didn't do anything wrong except believe Floyd was going to save me! I just wanted salvation, is that so wrong!' He tossed the syringe at the creature standing in front of him. 'I don't want this!' He howled now, standing on the balls of his feet. 'You cant make me do this! It's so fucking not fair! I cant help being what I am! It's not what I ever wanted.' The creature picked up the syringe and crushed it between his fingers. 'NO!' Sam screamed as the liquid dripped off the monster's fingers. 'Oh fuck no… please… I needed that! Please!'

It was the end of the discussion. It had been decided and Sam had been told what was going to happen. Floyd hadn't contacted them about reclamation and therefore Sam will be used as amusement (as it was a devil of a holiday… a celebration of arses…) and then he would be absorbed back into the darkness. He was told that if Floyd ever bothered to contact them, then they'd enter discussions as to his future but as he was no use to them, and unwanted by Floyd (even the forest animals didn't want to eat his corpse) then there seemed little point in keeping him around.

'I don't need Floyd!' Sam howled at them as they started to drag him back over the squashy black floor to an even darker, yet hot place where he'd be kept in storage.

'He ate your heart. Without Floyd you don't really exist.'

'Fucking hate him!' Sam screamed as he was hurled into a small dark hot room where he had to sit and wait for Floyd to come and give him back what he'd taken. 'Don't fucking believe this bollocks.' Sam muttered as he looked around and saw nothing except small bottles, in various colours, glinting in what was like, but wasn't, starlight. Little bottles tempting him to open them and taste them.

Sam had the willpower of a maggot and drank the lot within the first ten minutes. It made him sick. It made him cry and rage and hammer at the door. It made him plead and beg and offer anything he had just to be let out.

If anyone was there, they weren't listening.

o-o-o

Spencer was attempting to remain calm. 'Even if I did know what you're asking, you know I'd not be able to tell you anything. It is also a very well known fact that even if I was a Federal Agent, that there would be no ransom. The Feds don't do that.'

'We have ways to persuade people.' Spencer was told.

He remembered the time with Tobias. It made his skin crawl. He swallowed back the feeling that he was going to be sick and sighed softly. 'I'm very sure you do, but as I don't have any information it would be pointless to pursue that direction to extract information. I know nothing. And beating me and doing whatever it is you have planned cannot work if the information you wish to extract doesn't exist.'

It seemed that they agreed with him. They told Spencer to get up and they half dragged him back to his cave. They spoke amongst each other and it was decided that his rations and water allowance had been far too generous and would be halved. He was also told that he could have a week to think about things and then they'd be back to see if he'd changed his mind. They requested that he rested. He would need all the energy he could muster when the time came.

Yes it seemed odd to Reid that they'd not even slapped him… no black eye. No pain in the groin… nothing but the threat that the greasy muck they'd been feeding him would be reduced. Reid knew that something was wrong. Well more than one something actually.

Where the hell was Floyd?

The reason they'd not beaten Spencer became clear when Adam was dragged back into the cave and chained to the wall. It was Adam they'd beaten. Spencer crawled over the rough rock floor to get as close as he could but Adam drew back. There was blood. Spencer could see that much in the dim light.

'Don't you come any closer you bastard.' The young voice hissed at him.

'What did they do?' A rising sound of alarm in Spencer's voice.

'They beat me. They tore out two of my fingernails. They've told me what they're going to do to me tomorrow, and it's because of you. I hope you're satisfied. I hope you're proud of your damned morals.'

Spencer sat back on his heels and rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips. 'I didn't know.'

'Didn't think, rather.' Adam growled back at him. 'I'm going to die because you wont give up information. I'd been making an OK life here and you come in and fuck everything up for me. Thanks.'

Spencer stopped trying to get to the obviously hurt person and turned to look at the bars. He could just about reach them and so the following hour saw Reid rattling the bars and shouting for someone to come and talk to him. 'You cant do this! Please… I will negotiate something with you. Take me rather than the boy! Someone talk to me! He needs medical assistance! I know you can hear me!'

He only stopped when he took pause for breath and Adam spoke. 'Shut up. I'm trying to sleep. They wont come. Just let me sleep I need my energy for tomorrow.'

Spencer nodded and tried to move towards him again. 'Don't. I need to sleep.' He snarled at Reid.

He sat on his pile of straw until he heard the heavy sleeping breaths of Adam and then he too curled up to sleep. When he next opened his eyes Adam was gone. There was a plate with some stale bread and a slice of sweaty cheese and a mug of slightly warm water. Spencer tried calling for someone but like the night before he was ignored. He had wanted to attempt to make some sort of a deal with these people, but his chance had been missed. Now he had to sit and wait and not only have the problem of trying to sort through the guilt of maybe (if it had really been him) killing Sam, but now someone else was being hurt because of him. And still no Floyd. Spencer was quite sure that Floyd would have forgiven him by now. Floyd would… Floyd always did. Floyd needed him…

The bars opened and someone was dragged in. It didn't look like it was Adam though. The face was the wrong shape… but then again that was Adam's fair hair and he was wearing Adam's clothes. 'What have you done!' Spencer howled. 'I'll talk to you. We can make some kind of a deal, but you cant do that to someone because of me!' Spencer felt the rage and the hot tears running down his face.

'You were told.' The man told Spencer as he manacled Adam back to the wall. 'One week. That's seven days.'

'But you can stop this! What have you done to his face?'

'Dental work.' The man grinned at Spencer. 'Just a little. Nothing he wont survive. But I assure you it'll hurt like a son of a bitch. Five more days little Agent. Then we talk about deals.' The bars were closed and the two of them were once again alone. Spencer tried to ask what happened but got a bloody hand waved at him to tell him to shut up.

Reid stayed awake longer that night and listened to Adam crying in his sleep as he tried to get the manacle of his own foot. He only succeeded in jamming something behind his thumb nail. He sat and sucked on it for a while and finally admitting defeat for that day lay back with all intention of staying awake. He didn't. Again when he next opened his eyes, Adam was gone.

It was the fifth night that Adam didn't return. Spencer still got his old bit of bread and his bit of hard cheese with a drink of water, but there was no Adam. He asked where the boy was and got no answer. He yelled at the bars demanding to know where Adam was and no one came. Spencer shouted and hurled straw around and kicked over the bucket which thankfully he'd not used since it had been emptied. He picked it up and slung it at the bars and carried on until finally someone came to tell him to be silent.

'There are kids you know. They don't want nightmares from your racket. Just shut up and sleep.' He was told.

'Where is Adam?' Spencer needed to know.

The man shrugged. 'Wherever people go when they're dead I guess. Lad couldn't cope with that amount of damage and his heart gave out. I think he felt it. Never seen such a terrified look on a kid's face before.'

'Why are you doing this?' Spencer clutched hold of the bars. 'Why do that to him?'

'Because you're a Federal Agent. Your job is to protect. You failed. You'll not give us the info we require without a bit of pressure. We're hairy and dirty, but far from stupid, Doctor Reid. Torturing you would get us nothing but a corpse. A dead kid is easy to replace. And will be replaced. And if you still refuse to give us the information we need you'll have three deaths on your protective hands. How does that sit with you Doctor Reid?'

Spencer stood back from the bars. 'I said I would talk about making a deal with you.' Spencer's voice wobbled.

The man shook his head. 'Just something to waste time Doctor Reid. I'm not ready or willing to waste my time. You were told a week. Seven days. The kid didn't last that long, not my fault. Not the kid's fault. Your fault Doctor. Think about it. How many children are you going to allow to die for you? You killed one with your bare hands. We watched. We watched you kill Sam. Then you allowed Adam to die for you. I must say that I'm surprised. What you need to do over the course of the following day is work out what information is going to stop another person being slaughtered in your name. Who is more important? An innocent who you don't know or an Agent who is trained to protect himself and took the job knowing the dangers? Up to you Doctor Reid. Totally up to you. See you tomorrow.' The man turned and walked away and left Spencer to his thoughts.

o-o-o

Penelope Garcia was at a virtual run when she entered Hotch's office. She stood looking alarmed and fidgety as Hotch finished a telephone call. He looked over at Garcia and nodded. 'You have something?'

'About ten minutes ago. A Floyd Flanders was admitted to hospital. His name popped up on my screen. I had him tagged. Nothing for Spencer though.' She told Hotch which hospital Floyd was in and placed a bit of paper on the desk in front of Hotch. 'There's nothing for Sam Trent either.' She added. 'I did double check that. I don't know why he's there or if he took himself there or was taken.'

'Then find out. I'll go and pay him a visit. Contact me if you find anything.'

Garcia tried to smile, but couldn't. She tried to think that Spencer had taken Floyd there and they would be together. That would be the best result, but she didn't want to raise her hopes too high. She couldn't ask Hotch to phone her when he'd talked to Floyd. She couldn't ask him to let her know if Spencer was there. She just had to stand and watch her boss walk in long strides towards the elevator. Hotch had taken the bit of paper with him. He had folded it and placed it in his pocket. That was good. She didn't want someone else (ie Derek) seeing that Floyd was in the hospital. Derek wouldn't have the calm that Hotch could display (even when he wasn't feeling calm inside). Morgan would go in shouting and demanding. Morgan would go in with his gun out and ready to kill. Not that that was a _bad_ thing. At least not always. Rossi looked over and gave Penelope a questioning look, but she quickly removed her glasses and gave them a quick clean and walked back to her bunker.

o-o-o

Hotch didn't have to ask where the patient called Flanders was. He could hear the shouting and yelling as soon as he entered casualty. He walked quickly and flashed his badge to gain access to the area with the small curtained cubicles.

'Touch me again and you're dead.' He clearly heard Floyd's voice.

'I need to touch you to see the damage.' A hushed calm voice.

'Just give me some meds and I'll sort it myself.' Snapped an angry Floyd.

'I don't know what medication you will need until you let me wash it and see properly what the damage is. Can you tell me how this happened?'

'What do you fucking well _think_ happened? They are teeth marks. Work it out for yourself.'

'Teeth marks? Someone bit you?' A shocked voice. 'That's extensive damage sir. You might need surgery.'

'Oh for the love of fucking fuck! Just give me something to rub in the sores and I'll be gone.'

'I would like to do some tests first.' Again the calm voice. 'For infection.'

'Tests? What sort of tests?'

'Blood tests sir. And can you remain on the bed please. I cant have you wandering around half dressed. People will get upset.'

'Upset? They were taking fucking photos when I showed that slut on the reception desk.'

'Please…'

It was now that Hotch pulled back the curtain and walked in.

Floyd's head snapped around and his eyes narrowed. 'You took your fucking time getting here.' He growled. 'You alone?'

Hotch looked at the mostly undressed Floyd and then quickly averted his eyes. 'I was going to ask you the same question.' Hotch took a seat next to the bed which Floyd was now sitting on.

'Yes I'm alone. Obviously I'm alone. And I'm in pain and…' He turned and looked at the doctor. '…fine, touch, but don't blame me if I suddenly get the over powering need to stuff my ulcerated cock up your arse. Just sayin'.'

'I need to know where Spencer is.' Hotch spoke calmly trying not to look at what the doctor was doing and taking a small amount of pleasure from the look of pain on Floyd's face.

'Well that's the… fuck!' Floyd wriggled on the bed. 'Doctor, my good man, do that again and die.'

'I need to put in a drain and then I'll have you transferred to a private room. Apparently you have good medical insurance.' The doctor looked surprised. This looked like someone who had been living rough.

Floyd nodded. 'Just sort it.' His voice came out as a moan. 'Now, Reid. Where the hell is he? I've been to his apartment and I have a feeling he's not been back, so where's he hiding, Agent Aaron Hotchner?'

Now it was Hotch's face which showed surprise. 'He's not reported in.' He paused and grimaced as he glanced at what the doctor was doing with his hands. 'Last time I saw Reid he was with you.'

'Ah…' Floyd replied. 'There was… there was an incident. He did something… something I need to… I apologise Aaron old buddy, but I'm a tad distracted by what this good man is doing with my livelihood. Can you come back later?'

Hotch didn't go back later. Hotch stayed. He did however wait outside the curtained cubicle until Floyd was taken (by wheelchair) to a private room on the fifth floor. Once the doctor had left and whilst they awaited blood test results Hotch began to ask questions.

'Where is Spencer?' Was the first thing he asked, closely followed by, 'And what was this _incident_ you spoke of.'

Floyd lounged back on the bed with a happy grin on his face. Painkillers had kicked in and he was feeling a bit light headed. 'I dunno. I assumed you knew. As for the incident I spoke of, I don't think I wish to talk about that on account that you wont believe what I told you and I don't want Reid to get pulled in for murder before I've had the opportunity to deliver my message to him. I'm tired and need to rest.'

Hotch glanced down at Floyd's mid-region which was covered by a light hospital sheet. 'Spencer – he did that?' Aaron didn't even want to think about how or why Spencer would have risked his life by biting Floyd in such an area.

'No, not as such, but he caused it. They're not his teeth marks if that's what you're wondering. Agent Aaron Hotchner, something happened when the three of us were out in the forest. Not very good stuff and none of it my fault. Now I've lost my Sam and Spencer seems to be AWOL. I told him to go back home. I told him to go to you for comfort. I assumed that's what he'd done. It's been a few – a couple? I don't know how many weeks, but he's been off my radar for at least two weeks. I came back and went to his apartment but no one was there. I called him. Damnit I called _you_, but no reply on the good old telephone. Now I have to wonder where the hell he is. If he's not here and he's not in hiding… you have him in a safe house? I kind of made some wild threats.'

Hotch sat in the orange, plastic covered chair and listened carefully. 'And Sam?'

'Sam… Sammy boy… You don't want to know.' Floyd closed his eyes. 'I'm tired. Come back some other time and go look for Reid for me. I cant smell him on you. But then I did warn him about that too, so maybe just this once he's actually listened to me?'

But Hotch _did_ want to know about Sam. 'Did you hurt them Floyd? Either of them? What happened?'

'This is off the record? I gather that anything I say will be used against me. Am I under arrest?'

'Now that depends on what you tell me. The last time you saw Spencer, tell me what happened.'

'I'm a compulsive liar Aaron. Why bother telling you?' He paused and looked at Hotch who was staring back at him. 'Fine! I was getting sucked off by Sam and Reid took it upon himself to stop him. He battered his brains out with a length of wood. Sam bit down when darling, loving, gentle, innocent Reid smacked him on the back of the head. I must say that I was more than a bit shocked at what had happened and in a bit of pain. I let Spencer go. I told him I would come find him later. There were things I had to do with Sam first. Reid killed Sam. I've dealt with that. I'll get Sam back somehow, but not before I've shown Reid exactly how pissed off I am with him. Not necessarily because he committed a gross act of jealousy and uncontrolled, vile, infantile… whatever it was… but because I got _hurt_! You understand now?'

Hotch had been watching Floyd carefully, but as he'd already said, he was a compulsive liar. There was no way to pick out the lies from the truth. He certainly didn't believe that Spencer had it in him to kill someone in that manner, that much he was sure of. The rest of it though? 'I will come back when you're talking sense. I'll have a guard at your door. I don't want you wandering off or going anywhere.'

'You think one poxy guard at the door will stop me from leaving if that's what I feel inclined to do? You forget who you're talking to Aaron. Go find Reid. Go run to Dave and tell him what I said. I'm sure he'd love to have a chat with me. Dave seems to think he can get inside my head. I'll be the subject of one of his books one day.'

As going to talk to Dave was exactly what Hotch had on his mind he decided to prove Floyd wrong. He remained sitting in the chair. 'Tell me what happened and this time the truth. Is Spencer in trouble? Is Sam?'

Floyd sighed and wriggled his toes. 'I'm gasping for a fag. Can you persuade them to let me have my stuff?' When Hotch didn't move Floyd carried on. 'OK The Great Truth. You want me to tell you something which makes sense to you? Sam was royally getting right on my tits. I slapped him around a bit and Spencer intervened and so I slapped him around a bit too. A lot. I killed them both and buried them in the forest and planted an apple tree over their heads. I then fucked a couple of sheep which were wandering around and murdered someone I hitched a lift from. I ate all parts which I found tasty. A dog bit my cock when I tried to screw it. Out of desperation you must understand. Now tell me which truth you like the best?'

Hotchner shook his head. 'You told me you were looking for Spencer. Why would you be looking for him if you had killed him?'

'Because I'm insane, as you well know. I'm mad man Aaron. But you love me anyway don't you? Spence and I had a tiff. I told him to fuck off and run because I was going to hurt him. He did as he was told. He ran. I waited around until I'd calmed down enough to think about buying a silver cheroot case and a cow hide belt and then made my way back here. I phoned… I visited… he's not home. Where is he?'

'Have you checked your own home?'

Floyd hadn't. It hadn't crossed his mind to do that. He hadn't really been all that bothered about Spencer at all. It had been Sam he'd been waiting for. He had assumed that he'd just pick Spencer up off the street when he was ready… Once he'd found Sam. 'Well obviously I've checked the house. It was the first thing I did.' Floyd lied. 'I've been wandering the streets looking for them both. Maybe they're together. Ah… no, no… you see these pain killers are confusing me, or my lack of libido is. They cant be together as Sam is a corpse and Spencer, hopefully, isn't.'

'Sam died?' Hotch was trying his best to remain calm but there was one lie flowing so fast after another that he was having difficulties keeping track.

'I told you that already! Are you getting stupid in your old age? Spencer beat him to death with a bit of wood. Now please I need to sleep. The drugs they're pumping into me are taking effect and I'm…' Floyd closed his eyes and let out a soft groan as he dropped off asleep.


	27. Chapter 27

27

Hotch had Floyd's big white block of a house searched. The report came back that it didn't look as though anyone had been there in a few weeks. There was a thin layer of dust over everything and nothing had been disturbed. No footprints on the floor. Nothing to show that anyone had been there recently. The same went for the pool house. Nothing. Hotch had Spencer's apartment searched. Still nothing. He contacted the college Sam had been attending and was told that Sam's name had been removed from the roster. If he wanted to return he would have to reapply and whether or not he was accepted would be a matter of long discussions. His room had been cleared out and someone else was using it. Sam hadn't contacted them. As far as they were concerned he was no longer their problem. Hotch put down the telephone and finally did what Floyd had predicted he would do and asked Rossi to join him.

He told Dave about what Floyd had said at the hospital. 'The problem is that somehow I've become too close. He knows what to say to me to keep back what he means.' Dave nodded. 'Maybe you would do a better job. I've contacted the hospital and he's going to be able to leave tomorrow morning. I suggest that we're there, as friends, to pick him up and take him somewhere a bit more secure.'

Rossi agreed on all counts.

o-o-o

Floyd had spent the night in what appeared to be deep dreamless sleep. In actuality he had slipped back to have a word with his boss. His boss was the same tall slimy dude which Sam had been talking to at some point. The Big Slime stood and breathed fetid air over Floyd's face.

'So you finally arrive?'

'I've been busy.' Floyd snapped back. 'I've come back for Sam.'

'Too late buddy. Sam is gone.'

They weren't the words Floyd had wanted to hear. And that twisting in his gut wasn't what he wanted to feel. 'Gone?'

'You had two days to reclaim your property. You never showed. He was recycled. You're too late.'

Floyd still didn't like what he was hearing. 'But I consumed him. I absorbed him back into myself. He's part of me. You cant just recycle him! If you recycle him then you recycle me too!'

The creature laughed. 'You were too busy feeling sorry for yourself.'

'NO! No, actually I was grieving the passing of Sam. You should have given me more time. You could have.'

'Could… He was in storage but became annoying.'

Floyd sat down on the floor and rested his head in his hands. 'Fine. I understand. I've been clumsy with my wards. I thought I could do without Sam and I told him to leave, but it's really not that easy is it? I need him. I just need him to be easier to control.'

'The usual applies.' The thing said. It clicked its many fingers and told Floyd that his wish was granted.

'You've returned him?' Floyd leapt to his feet. This seemed too easy. 'Where is he?'

'Come now Floyd, don't be such a bore. Go find him. He's out there somewhere, you just need to look.'

o-o-o

Spencer was pulled from his cave and dragged to the room he'd been in before. He sat again on the chair in front of the table. A note pad and an HB pencil painted red and black, with an erasure on the end (pink) was placed on top of the pad. He was told that he needed to provide enough information to preserve the life and well being of another child. The child in question was sitting at the back of the room with his hands tied roughly in front of him. Spencer turned to look at the boy who appeared to be in his very early teens. He let out a long sigh. There was no way in hell Spencer was going to be the cause of that person's pain or death. He would have to trust that information given to Hotch would not get anyone hurt. He sat and thought about it and finally gave up a telephone number. He wrote it down carefully and slid the pad over the table towards the man with the eye patch.

'What's that?' Spencer was asked.

'My telephone number. If you call that and leave a message someone will pick it up.'

The man though shook his head. 'Not good enough. Give another.' The pad was returned to Spencer. He sat and thought and then wrote down another.

'SSA Aaron Hotchner.' Spencer muttered. 'My unit chief.' It was Hotch's home number. Spencer sucked air in between his teeth and added JJ's old contact number to the small list. He didn't have to tell them that the number had been discontinued. At least not yet and it would give him some time. Spencer just hoped that someone was monitoring those lines – well at least the first two – and would either answer or try to trace. 'Passwords get changed. I've been away for too long. The change over period would have happened and I've not been in contact with anyone so I don't know what they've been changed to.' Reid added a quick lie.

Now they wanted addresses.

'I don't know. It's not something which we…' The child sitting behind Reid suddenly screamed. Spencer spun on the chair and saw the lad clutching a bloody nose. 'Please don't hurt him. I'll give you what information I have. I just don't have all that much. Things change so rapidly where I work and for this very reason. We don't have postal addresses. I have email.' He rattled off Garcia's email address and also one he contacted Floyd by a couple of times. He then gave out Hotch's, Dave's and finally his own. 'If you allow me to have internet access I will reply to email sent to me and they will pick up on that. They will know you have me and they may be prepared to contact you. People get a hold of phone numbers all the time. Hoax calls mean nothing. They're ignored.'

Spencer was escorted back to the cave and given some gruel to ease his rumbling stomach. He was told that telephone calls would be made and they'd inform him of progress made one way or the other. They dragged the teenager into the cave too and told them not to bother bonding. This wasn't good news but was also a good psychological weapon to use against Spencer. He would do anything not to be the cause of that lad being harmed. Yet he took advice from his captors and didn't talk to the lad or ask him his name. This time Spencer curled up with his back to him and hoped with all he could muster that they would contact Hotch. It didn't look as though Floyd was in any hurry to come to his rescue.

o-o-o

Floyd was sitting in an interview room with Hotch and Dave. He wasn't in a good mood. He had intended to spend his day looking around for Sam. He was close by; at least that's what he hoped.

'Tell us exactly what happened.' Dave spoke to Floyd who had been given his cheroots.

'Ah… it's a long story Dave. Where do you wish for me to start?'

'How about starting when you lost Spencer.'

Floyd nodded at this. He could do this. 'He bugged the fuck out of me, but you know what? I kinda love him. However he broke a rule and for that I got pissed off to such an extent that I would have, right there and then, killed him for it. I told him to leave. That was for his safety you see? I needed him far away from me so that I could sort out what had happened, both physically and emotionally. Things go badly wrong when emotions run too high, Dave. You say and do things which later you might regret. I have learned from past errors that sometimes sitting back and waiting gets a better result. It's partly what this trip was all about. So yep… He took his backpack and ran.'

'Can you show me on a map where you were when you told him to leave?' Dave asked.

'I might be able to.' However Floyd was feeling reluctant to do that. There was a body out there gradually rotting and he didn't want it to be disturbed. It had to stay as he'd placed it. 'I dunno… you see I did a lot of walking in circles.' A map was placed on the table in front of him and Dave calmly asked Floyd to point out the general area where he'd last seen Reid. The actual place jumped out at Floyd like it had a big red X already drawn on it. He could feel he was staring at it and tried to pull his gaze away from it. 'Here.' He jabbed a random place and then regretted his decision. 'No… wait… it was closer to the road. This is somewhere else… this is where I last saw Reid. I stayed a couple more days sorting stuff and then walked towards the road. Reid had gone in that direction.' He prodded the map again, and for once was being honest. After all it was Spencer who had killed Sam, not him and Sam was likely gone by now anyway if he'd been placed back somewhere else.

'Why didn't Spencer go towards the road?' Dave asked.

'I guess he didn't know it was there. I heard him… I heard…' Floyd paused and pushed his hair behind his ears. 'I heard the blood rushing in my veins and my heart pounding with grief and anger. I heard a thousand demons screaming in my brain. I thought I heard Spence tripping and running into trees… maybe… maybe that's not what I heard. It's hard to think when… Hotch… Hotch you remember when Haley died? How it hurt so fucking much that you couldn't think? Even though you were not living together, even though you were divorced… even though all that shit, when she died… that tore you apart. Thinking of sounds going on in the undergrowth would have not really had been on you mind.'

Floyd saw Hotch react. 'Sam?'

'Hell yes Sam! Spencer smacked his brains out! I was cross with him… with Spencer. I made threats, but… you know me. I make threats all the fucking time and he ignores them, only this time I kinda meant it. I never thought, ever that Spencer would do something like that… right in front of me. I couldn't stop it. That's why I told him to leave… it wasn't spite, it was… _love_.' Floyd slumped forward and thumped his head on the desk. 'It fucking hurts.'

'Grief hurts.' Dave spoke kindly but the colour had drained from his face.

'I'm not talking about grief; I'm talking about my cock. Fuck a saint it hurts. I need my meds and a stiff drink. I've given you locations. If you want more info you can come get me. I think I'll go home and wash some floors. Good day gents. Let me know if you find anything.' Floyd stood to leave and was waved back down again by Dave.

'I've not finished talking to you yet.' He glanced at his watch. 'And your next lot of meds aren't due.'

'You my fucking mother now? Telling me when I can have my meds. Fucking hell. No wonder Spencer was going bonkers working with you lot.' Floyd rubbed at his tender places but slowly sat back down again. 'Here's the thing, I had a fall out with Sp… with Reid… over what he'd done. I know that what happened was the result of his delusions and paranoia, but that doesn't really excuse what he did.' Floyd looked up at Dave and Aaron. 'I kind of have feelings for him. I've told you what happened. At least what happened at that point, but the reasons maybe go back further. You know there's armed men up in that forest? That for starters needs to be sorted. They're killing people. They did things… Well that's not really part of what finally happened but they did some fucking bad shit up in that forest to all three of us. It sort of makes you think differently. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is this – if I give you exact directions on where we were when I last saw Sp… Fuck… When I last saw Reid, then you'll find Sam's remains and they _have_ to stay where they are. I need your word that you'll not disturb him. He has to stay under that shelter in peace. No packing his bones up and taking him to some morgue to poke over. He had damage to his face mainly. Reid smacked him on the back of the head, pulled him away from me and carried on the attack as Sam lay on his back. Most of the strikes were to his face, neck and upper chest. He was a mess. I was upset. I shouted and made threats. I placed Sam in the shelter, lay flowers over that poor broken body and then I left once he began to smell. I walked to the road, hitched a lift and came back to the city. I assumed – Reid would already be here so I focused on looking for Sam.'

This whole little _confession_ had gone by uninterrupted. Dave and Hotch sat looking at Floyd. All three of them were wearing frowns. 'Why were you looking for Sam in the city if you say his remains are in the forest?' Dave asked.

'Well, I was hoping he'd be given… Ah Dave my friend, you'd never understand that part of the story so let's assume that I never said that. I wasn't looking for Sam… in my grief I was feeling delusional and in my pain I was feeling not quite myself. Yes I suppose I was looking for someone who was certainly, maybe dead. This is of course if any of what I said actually happened. And to find out the answer to that we're going to have to find Reid and you know what? I hate to say this, but…' Floyd stopped talking and lit up a cheroot.

'But what?' Hotch encouraged Floyd to keep talking.

'OK… you see there's this… Reid and I were having fun. Sam got in the way. I attacked him. I obliterated his face and then went after Reid. I was high on drugs and maybe drunk too. Reid ran. He ran in the direction I pointed out. He ran and never came back. I got a lift back to the city and… Well you see, Spencer didn't do what I said.'

Hotch and Dave were both shaking their heads. The second story sounded much more like what would have happened, but somehow they didn't believe it.

'If Spencer killed Sam; if that's the truth, then that is the story you need to keep to.' Hotch spoke this time. 'You need to decide which is the truth and which is fabrication. We cannot believe anything you have told us until you've got that straight in your own head. I would like you to talk to someone else about this.'

'I don't need no shrink, if that's what you're thinking.'

'What I'm thinking,' Hotch continued, 'is that something happened out in the forest and for some reason you're hiding behind fabrications either to cover what happened to the three of you, or to cover what you _think_ happened. We need to know where to find the remains of Spencer and Sam. I will call someone in to talk to you, but you have to understand, Floyd, that we need to have closure.'

Floyd shook his head slowly. 'I am hoping that Spencer is OK. I didn't hurt him. I'd never hurt Spence.' Floyd's voice had taken on that automated hollow sound.

As far as Hotch was concerned, Floyd had killed both Sam and Spencer. Dave however thought that maybe Floyd had killed Sam and Spencer had run off. Neither of them even considered that Spencer would attack someone out of some sexual jealousy. It was just so wrong that it was impossible to consider. At least for now. They asked Floyd to sit and wait. They asked if he would talk to someone else about this… both now thinking that they wouldn't be able to see any truth here. Spencer was like family to them. The thought that he'd done what Floyd said was making it hard to focus on what the truth might actually be. They decided also that it would be best if the person asking the questions was female, and not blonde, or dark skinned. They didn't want to put Floyd on edge and those particular traits in people seemed to bother Floyd for some odd reason. Mrs Larkson was middle aged, plump, grey haired, and very experienced when dealing with people suffering from neurotic behaviour or from shock. She worked mainly with people who were survivors of things most horrific. Loss of family members… wife, children, mother, father… usually from accidental or suicidal death. She knew – at least she thought she knew – what to expect.

Floyd sat on a hard blue couch in a different room. He had a cup of apple juice in one hand and cheroot in the other, thus giving him the blindingly good excuse not to shake hands. He curled his lip slightly at the woman in her floral print top and black pants and let out a double line of smoke from his nose. The smoke didn't bother Larkson. She had dealt with worse than a bad attitude and cigarette smoke in her life. She started with the basics. She wanted his name, his address, age, place of birth, siblings, offspring, religion, sexual preferences, race… there was a long list and she was gradually getting through it, some boxes she wrote in and some boxes she ticked. Then she went back and talked about some of the answers, but Floyd was being vague about a lot of it and that vagueness didn't alter.

'Shall we get onto why I'm here?' She smiled at the man sitting sipping apple juice.

'I'm doing someone a favour. They don't believe what I told them.' Floyd placed the now empty cup between his feet and leaned back this time blowing a smoke ring. 'I've not got too good a rep. That doesn't mean that I've killed anyone. Just so you know. I don't know what they've told you but I've not killed him. Actually I've been uncommonly well behaved. I might have a spiteful mouth and maybe even I kick and lash out sometimes but I've not killed anyone. They think I have.'

'They've told me nothing except that you have a story to tell and you keep changing the plot.' She licked her lips. Something about this person was making her feel very nervous.

'Great. I'll tell you then. I'll tell you all and you have to decide what's truth and what's my imagination. You ready for this… It's a story I only intend telling once.' She nodded so Floyd carried on. 'The van ran out of gas, we walked. It was raining and we were walking north. Abridged version coming up. Sam jumped and disappeared. I caught my foot, smacked my head. We stopped walking north. Spencer and Sam found a building. Full of darkness it was. I could feel it. The shadows took Sam and hurt him. Doors slammed and locked us in. Spencer went for light… ran, ran like a fucking coward… I escaped, got shot. We followed Sam who was on a killing spree by now. They found him, strung him up. I rescued him. I thought he'd died, but he woke and followed Spencer and I. Things came in the dark. Sam came in the dark. I didn't. Spencer killed Sam.. I told him to fuck off and he did. That's the end. I stayed with Sam for a while and prepared his body and then hitched a lift home.'

She sat looking at Floyd and then nodded. 'Thinking back on what happened, how much of it do you think was your imagination?' She asked kindly.

'None of it. None of it. It happened. Now you see I didn't want to get Spencer in trouble for what he did to Sam. Honestly Sam probably deserved a slap, but I'm happy to take the blame for that. I think that Hotchner and Rossi will be happier if I said it was me and Spencer… REID! If Reid ran off to save his skin, which he did… It's confusing.'

She nodded slowly and put her note pad away. 'Do you think you would benefit from some days rest somewhere calming?'

Floyd snorted out a laugh. 'A nut house? I'm not insane misses. I'm just missing my boys. And I have to go find Sam. He's out there.'

'You prepared his body. You left him. Are you sure he was dead?'

Blank eyes stared back at her. 'I'm not sure of anything anymore. I ate his heart. I tore open his chest, but he was dead already. I ate what was necessary for him to be always a part of me and now he's out there somewhere and I've got to find him. I have no idea where he is. I don't know. I just know that I've got to locate him before it's too late and I know for damned sure that I didn't hurt Reid. I wouldn't do that you know? I don't have it in me to hurt him. He's too damned pretty to want to spoil.'

Mrs Larkson recommended that Floyd was locked up somewhere and monitored. She considered him unsafe and a danger not only to himself but to everyone else too. She concluded that Floyd was very delusional, suffering from some kind of schizophrenia, and unable to distinguish between reality and fantasy. She thought it best he was locked up somewhere very secure, probably for the rest of his natural life. Even if he'd _not_ eaten part of Sam, he thought he had… and imaginary acts when thought by people like Floyd soon flooded over into real acts.

Rossi and Hotch looked through the window at Floyd who had flopped onto his side with his eyes closed. 'Well I think that confirmed what we were both thinking.' Dave said.

'It confirms nothing.' Hotch replied. 'Nothing at all.'

o-o-o

Spencer held the small cell phone in his hand. The boy was laying at the edge of the forest path with blood flowing from his nose and his hands stuffed between his legs.

'You will do as you're told!' Someone was screaming in his ear.

'I will do as I'm told.' Spencer replied. 'Just don't hurt him any more.'

'If that's what gets you to do what we want then that's what we'll carry on doing. Make a call to someone who will answer the fucking phone!'

Reid held up the phone and sighed. He punched in a few numbers and put the phone to his ear. It rang four times and then Hotch answered his work cell phone. 'Hotch, it's me.' Spencer spoke with a wobble in his voice. 'Someone here would like…' Suddenly the boy started to howl in pain again as one of the fur clad brutes kicked him. Spencer knew it was just for the effect and it worked. 'Hotch please.' He paused as he listened and then handed the phone over the big hairy eye patch man.

'We have one of your agents.' Hairy man said. He then paused and listened. 'Fine.' The small pink cell phone was thrust back at Spencer. 'Be quick.' He snapped.

'Hotch.' Reid sighed into the phone. 'I'm sorry.' Now it was Spencer's turn to listen. Again he sighed. 'Yes, yes I'm fine. I'm not hurt, but I don't know where I am.' Another pause and another sigh. 'No, Sam's not here.' Hotch was speaking again. 'No, nothing Floyd did. I don't know where he is.' The fur man tried to snatch the phone but Spencer walked a few paces away. 'I will try to think of something.' Spencer was trying to keep lines open so Garcia might have a chance to trace the call, but the teenager curled up at the edge of the track cried out again causing Reid to spin and hold out the cell phone for someone to take. He couldn't risk the lad being hurt, yet again the longer he was here the more time they would have to use the boy as ammunition against him. Quickly he put the phone back to his ear. 'Floyd can track. Take him back to…' This time the phone was removed quickly from Spencer and the line was cut. Reid had no idea if the call was being traced, but he was sure that they would have the number tagged now. If that phone was used again it would ring an alarm back in Garcia's bunker. Reid sighed and walked back along the track. They had walked up a small hill about an hour away from the main encampment to get a phone signal. All Spencer could do now was to hope that they could somehow rescue him from this odd situation. He still wasn't sure what they wanted from him, and was thinking that they didn't know what they wanted from him either. Spencer thought he could cope with this situation better if they were knocking him about a bit or showing some kind of anger towards him, but there was nothing but a mild curiosity and the fact that they had killed a boy to get him to hand out phone numbers.


	28. Chapter 28

28

Floyd had been sleeping. A decision as to what to do with him had not yet been reached. He was on his side on the couch with his arms wrapped tightly around himself and even though he was sleeping his eyes were slightly open. Hotch stood and looked at him and wondered what the best way was to wake him up and not get a body part ripped off for his trouble. He decided to stand back and cough loudly.

'I'm awake.' Floyd muttered back. 'You look… you look interested in something.' Floyd pushed up onto one elbow and then sat and stretched. 'Something's happened.'

Hotch walked slowly over to Floyd and then much to Floyd's surprise sat down on the couch next to him. 'I want you to sit there, Flanders, and tell me exactly what happened when you were out in the forest.'

Floyd sighed. 'I've told you. I've told you what happened. I've embellished the story to make it more exciting. I've told you a version to suit your own opinion of me. What the hell more do you want? Zombie attacks?'

'Truth. It's simple for most people to do that. No more lies, no fantasy, nothing said because you think I wont believe it. Tell me the damned truth and then we will leave together. Your assistance might be required, but only if you tell me the damned truth.'

There was a nod from Floyd. He turned slightly to look closer at Hotch. 'As I said previously, Sam was blowing me. He got over enthusiastic and bit down on me. I let out a yell, Spencer came out of the shelter I'd made and saw me…' Floyd paused and licked his lips. '… Reid saw me… he saw me beating Sam's brains out with a bit of wood. He started screaming and howling at me and… he tried to… he tried to stop me? I told him to fuck off and maybe I threatened him? He ran… I heard odd noises. I thought he was running into the undergrowth. It was dark.' Floyd now looked down at his knees. 'Is that what you wanted me to say?'

To Hotch it sounded like a reasonable declaration. He could easily imagine that was what had happened, but it was now Floyd's hesitation which was bothering him. 'Did Reid attack Sam?' He asked almost in a whisper.

Again Floyd turned to look at Hotch. 'Reid? Ah… Agent Aaron Hotchner, you know what it's like. You know how things work. Do you really think I'd let Reid hurt Sam? Why would I say it was me if it was Reid? Why would I do that? Sam is part of me. Sam… Sam was part of me. You know that too. I'd never let Reid hurt him, and likewise I'd never let Sam hurt Reid. They are both my boys Aaron. They're mine and no other bastard on this planet is going to be allowed to have them. Even if I don't want them anymore. Even if I tire of them and move on to someone or something else, I'd never let another living soul or spirit hurt what is mine and let them get away with it. I might be a bit of a shit Aaron, but I'm a fucking selfish, possessive shit. If, and only _if_ Reid hurt my Sam, I'd not let him go unpunished, but that punishment would have to be dished out by me. Do you understand what I'm saying? Reid didn't hurt Sam. Whatever happened to Sam was my doing. I've not hurt or killed Reid.'

'I know you've not killed Reid. He phoned. He's being held captive.'

Floyd stood. 'Then we are going to find him?'

'He suggested that you could track him. You need to take us to where you last saw Reid and you need to assist in finding him before someone kills him.' Hotch exaggerated the situation slightly (he hoped). He needed Floyd to work fast and he needed him to start showing some responsibility for what had happened to Spencer. The business with Sam he was still unsure of, but if Sam had been killed then surely his remains would be out there in the forest. They would get Floyd for that.

They would have a good reason to lock him away.

But first they needed him to help them find Spencer, or maybe the dogs could do that.

'Well he can suggest all he fucking well wants, but I want to locate Sam first.' Floyd decided that it was time to be stubborn. 'If as you say, REID is fine, then there's no hurry, however the clock is ticking for me to find Sam. You have no idea what sort of trouble he can get himself into if I'm not out there guiding his lovely, wanton little arse. So if you'll excuse me, and as I'm not under arrest, I think I'll be leaving. I'm not a fucking tracker dog and I don't follow your damned orders.'

Hotch decided to try a slightly different tact. 'You have spent a long time with Sam, training him how to cope on his own. You did a good job with him. What we need now though is for you to show us exactly how good you really are at tracking and find Spencer for us. We know an approximate location but your assistance…'

Floyd started to pace the room. 'My options? What are they? If I decline your grovelling, snivelling request what will happen to me? As I said I've not actually done anything wrong. You cant keep me here. Arrest me or release me.'

Hotch nodded and sighed. 'Arrest or release are not on your list of options. You will come and guide us through the forest, or you will go into treatment for your delusions, paranoia, and…' Hotch raised his hands in defeat, '… I honestly don't know how to describe your behaviour. We need to discover the truth about what happened to you out there. I need to know.'

'I showed you where it happened. You don't need me.' Floyd paused from his pacing and turned to look at Hotch. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and let out a long sigh. 'Agent Aaron Hotchner, I need you to promise me something before I agree to do anything, and that includes your suggestion that I need treatment…' Hotch said nothing but nodded slowly. 'When you get there… or when we get there, you need to promise me that the remains you find will be left untouched. It's important. Desperately important. They must be left in situ or handled with extreme caution.'

Hotch gave Floyd a very hard look. 'Flanders, explain in a way which makes some kind of sense to us both – you say that _someone_, and who it is we will find out, killed Sam.' At this Floyd nodded. 'You also claim that you cannot come with us to recover Reid because you need to go and find Sam.' Again Floyd nodded. 'You see… I trust you can see why I have a problem with this. If you know where Sam's remains are and if you can take us to them, how is it that you say you need to go and look for Sam?'

Floyd's hands came out of his pockets and he pushed wayward hair behind his ears. 'I thought that was obvious. Agent Aaron Hotchner, do you believe in reincarnation?' Hotch indicated at he didn't with both eyebrows. 'Well maybe it's time you stopped thinking so blinkered and look at what is reality. I had a great conversation with a beautiful young man once on the subject. He believed strongly in the idea of a rebirth, only his view of it was slightly twisted and to be honest with you perfectly insane. He was under the impression that when someone dies they become a creature which mirrored the way they lived their lives. His greatest wish was to be reborn as a butterfly and he was pretty damned determined to fulfil that wish… For that reason and many others he was resistant to my countless charms, however he also was of the opinion that if you lived your life as a miserable, murdering, sodomising, cold, emotionless motherfucker, then that's what you'd be reborn as. I pointed out to him that eventually the world would be full of butterflies and serial killers. That's not how it works. You get what you deserve and in some cases you can beg your way back to a more perfect form that before… not always… I'm sure that after my many near misses that I've devolved slightly… not that you'd notice that, but my ability to keep control of not only myself but of other people doesn't seem to be as awesome as it once was. So what I'm trying to explain to you Agent Aaron Hotchner, is that reincarnation is part of my world view and part of my belief system and somewhere out there Sam is waiting for me. Now you are free to disagree with me as I would be free to disagree with your personal belief system, but I'm sure that you know, at least in part, that I'm right. Now as for Sam's bones or whatever remains of him… It would obviously have been far better to have cremated his remains and gradually added them to my food, but the opportunity wasn't there, and besides Sam has an unreasonable fear of cremation. The bones must be left as they are. People pay vast amounts of money, they have huge ceremonies, they are prepared in certain ways, they have items left with them to help them on their journey… to pay the ferryman, to keep them company on their journey, and it matters not how fucking long that person has been buried, Mr Agent, that is still a grave and that person has the damned motherfucking right to stay where they were put.' Floyd stuffed his hands back in his pockets and carried on with his lecture. 'How long does it take?' He asked. 'How long is it before a person has gone from one life into the next? Did the ancient Egyptians for example, have a date when they would allow their tombs to be cranked open, their bones removed, their treasures taken… No… and there was a good reason for that. It doesn't matter how damned long the remains have been there, it is still desecration. You have no damned right to disturb the possible future and reincarnation of a person once they have been ceremoniously lain to rest. Totally different if it's just a body found dead, but if it's been prepared and it's journey is on going… you might unknowingly remove that person's ability to move on. Therefore I am telling you that if you attempt to disturb Sam's remains I will certainly have to stop you. Do I make myself clear?'

'Reincarnation.' Hotch muttered.

'Don't look so fucking shocked. You know full damned well that I'm not like you. Sam's not like you.' Floyd grinned. 'Reid's not like you either, but he's a newbie and it'd not be so noticeable. I will guide you through the forest and assist in locating Reid, but you have to promise me that you'll leave Sam as he is. I understand that you'll want someone to check how he died. I understand that you'll want to make sure it's Sam, but he's at rest and that's how it must stay.'

Hotch glanced around the room as though seeking help from the walls. 'Un-consecrated land Floyd. We cant have a body just laying out there in the forest. Things have to be done correctly.'

This time Floyd nodded. 'Understood. Then if you wish to remove his remains to someplace else you need to give me your word that it will be done with…'

'It will work like this Floyd. If there are human remains in the forest they will have to be removed and taken to a morgue. Someone will then discover the cause of death and then the body will be released to the next of kin for burial. That is how it will work. That is what I can promise you. Even bones – if that is all that we find, are treated with respect. You will then have a choice of what you wish to do.'

The hands came out of his pockets again. 'Well as it stands you know more or less the location the incident took place and with your dogs you're going to find what's there. I can agree to come with you and supervise the removal of the remains or I can refuse and assume that you're going to stuff them in a bin bag and treat Sam in the manner you feel he deserves.' He ran a hand over the front of his jeans and pulled a face. 'I'm in pain. I need my meds. I need dressings changed tomorrow and then I agree to come with you as far as the site and then it's up to you. If you do what I request then maybe I'll reciprocate. You must not violate my rights, or Sam's rights by assuming our religious beliefs are wrong and yours are correct. I appreciate that no belief system permits one to commit a crime as set down by this damned country, but I do still have rights to practice whatever faith I wish to practice.'

'As long as you are not breaking the law, as you said. I will call in a doctor to check you out and redress your wounds. We are leaving in under an hour. I don't have time to sit around discussing the matter with you further. You will come and assist or you can spend the following week locked in a cell whilst we try to work out what happened to Sam, if indeed anything happened, and whilst we locate Spencer and bring him safely home. Those Flanders are your options.'

Floyd frowned but nodded. 'We have an agreement. Is this the first time that we've actually managed to run on the rails travelling in the same direction?' Floyd put a hand out or Hotch to shake on. Aaron felt disinclined to do so, but that petty, niggling feeling that Floyd was pulling a fast one somehow was pushed back.

'An agreement.' Floyd slapped the palm of his hand into Hotch's. He wrapped fingers firmly around Aaron's and looked up into his eyes.

'Don't let me down.' Floyd stated.

Hotch pulled his hand away from Floyd's and looked down at a sticky residue now covering his hand. 'What the hell?'

'A gift. Don't waste it Aaron.' Floyd pushed his hands back into his jeans pockets and smirked.

'You dirty…'

'Well you see that's a matter of opinion. Where I come, exchange of seminal fluids is a great honour. I feel slighted that you didn't offer some back, unless you're waiting for later. Sam swears by using it as a face lotion. It keeps the skin soft and keeps away angry zits. It's why he has such a wonderful complexion and nice shaped arms. Try it?' But Hotch was already quickly wiping it away on some tissues he pulled out of a blue box.

'You are an unbelievable animal.' Hotch strode towards the door.

'All the best fun involves getting a bit messy.' Floyd shrugged. 'Your loss buddy. Your loss.'

Hotch needed to get out of that room quickly and disinfect his hands. The need to turn back on Floyd and shout childishly that he was _not_ his buddy was almost over powering, but he made it out of the room and with long strides found the men's room where he scrubbed at his hands with very hot water and a great amount of soap. Rossi stood behind him for a while watching curiously. All he'd seen was them shaking hands. He'd not noted what Floyd had actually passed over when he did so. Hotch had no intention of telling Rossi what Flanders had done.

'He's coming with us?' Rossi was now watching Hotch pull paper towels out of the dispenser and scrub his hands dry again.

'He is, but I don't know, I just don't know if it's going to be a good idea. Forensics are going to have to see the remains which Flanders claims are there. They are going to have to be very careful. I would like them to travel down there with us on the jet and talk to Flanders about how this is going to be done. It needs to be talked about… Damn it… no more towels… It needs to be done before we arrive. I don't want arguments when we are out in the forest. That is Floyd's home ground. He'll run circles around us. Even with the dogs.'

Rossi nodded and rubbed his hands over his beard. 'I will call in a team and get things arranged. Is there something wrong with your hand?' Rossi finally had to ask.

'Wrong? Yes you could say that. It will be a while before I shake hands with Flanders again.' Hotch marched out of the restroom and back down the corridor.

They called in someone to check up on Floyd's bites. Dressings were changed. Little white pills were given to him. Apparently it was healing well. Floyd offered to show Hotchner just how well, but Hotch declined. Everything seemed to be set. No angry voices were being used. Deep breaths had been taken and they slipped into the vehicles and started to drive off.

They were going in the wrong direction and Floyd pointed this out from the back seat of the car he was sitting in with Hotch and Rossi. His comments were ignored. To the other two men the direction seemed perfectly correct.

'We're meant to be going north.' Floyd gazed out of the window and watched the buildings rush by.

'And we will be.' Hotch confirmed. Was that nervousness in Floyd's voice? He wasn't sure and as Floyd kept his mouth shut for the rest of the short journey he wasn't able to check on that.

The next _problem_ seemed to start when they pulled up at the airfield. 'What the fuck are we doing here?' Floyd enquired.

Rossi answered the question. 'A few hours will get us to a small airfield half an hour drive from the location. We will take the CSU team with us and you can discuss things with them. They will have to inspect the scene to try to understand what happened.' Rossi paused and frowned. 'I thought you understood that.'

Floyd said nothing. He stared out of the window at the small aircraft sitting on the runway and wiped the back of his hand over his forehead. He then turned back to Rossi and slowly shook his head. 'Tell you what… You get going via the jet and I'll just jog on up there on my own. I'll meet you there in a day or two. Give you the chance to…'

'We are flying.' Hotch confirmed as he slipped from the SUV. 'Quickly now.'

'Flying.' Floyd muttered. 'I thought we were driving up there. No one said anything about fucking well flying!'

Rossi gave Floyd a curious look. 'Is flying a problem with you?'

'Are you implying that I'm afraid to fly?'

'I'm just curious. Is it a problem?'

'Fucking arsehole.' Floyd slipped out of the side door of the SUV and stood looking at the fragile tin can which would soar into the clouds and probably be eaten up by some demon above, or it would clatter and explode into the mountains, or it will implode mid-air, crash on takeoff/landing, hit another thing in flight, be blown up by terrorists… Floyd was a long, long way from being happy about flying. He could feel his stomach twisting in panic. He could feel sweat popping out on his brow. He could feel his balls trying to retreat back into his body. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. Floyd honestly wasn't sure if he could get on a plane… any plane… but _this_ one. 'It's so… insignificant and small.' Floyd muttered as the three of them walked over towards the others who were waiting. He really would have rather stood in front of a firing squad. 'Just a thought.' Floyd said to Rossi. 'If I admit I killed Sam and sold Spencer into slavery, can I avoid the flight and just be put down by lethal injection?'

'No.' A short sharp reply.

The world around Floyd took on a strange rolling feeling. The ground he was walking across seemed to rock and sway. The sweat on his brow ran into his eyes making him blink rapidly. He rubbed the palm of his hands constantly on the leg of his jeans. He wanted a smoke, but was told he couldn't. He wanted some snort and again was told he couldn't. He wanted to turn and run the other way, but didn't actually admit to that. A flight of steps led up to the door in the side of the plane and those steps began to buck and sway as Floyd placed his left foot onto the first tread. He stepped quickly off them and back onto the tarmac.

'You know something?' He spoke again to Rossi. 'I think I will do what I suggested and just walk. I can hitch a lift, catch a train, ride a fucking push bike; I'll do that. See you there.' He took a step back but felt Rossi place his hand on his back between his shoulder blades.

'You don't like flying?' A slightly amused tone to Rossi's voice.

Floyd stepped away from the contact. 'Actually _Dave_, I like to fly, but only when I have wings of my own or maybe am particularly high on something. Either will do, but I'm sure as hell not going to be projected across the fucking sky in _that_ motherfucking thing.'

'It is the safest form of travel. Much safer than going by car.'

Floyd shook his head with irritation. 'Don't even begin to assume that I'm scared of flying.'

Rossi's hand was now on Floyd's elbow. Most of the others had already entered that door, which to Floyd seemed to be getting smaller the more he looked at it. 'It's the medication.' Floyd reasoned. 'Nothing to do with… that.' He moved to step away from Rossi again, but the hand remained firmly on his elbow.

'It's perfectly safe.' Rossi was sounding less amused now. If Floyd had a sudden fit of panic when they were in the air it could mean a lot of trouble.

'Right.' Floyd muttered. 'Safe. Until it drops like a stone from the sky.' He wasn't going to let this get the better of him. He wouldn't show this odd weakness to these people. And so though he could feel that his hands were shaking, he had bile crawling up from his stomach, his vision was beginning to blur, he still walked up the first step onto the craft… Then the second… Holding the hand rail tightly and blinking the sweat out of his eyes. He would later remember making it maybe to the fifth step, but nothing else. Actually he didn't make it further than that. His knees gave way and he slid kind of sideways onto the steps, managing to smack himself in the face on a hard edge as he went down. Hotch stood at the top looking down and Rossi stood behind him and shrugged. They moved in quickly. This was probably the only chance they would get. Flexi cuffs were pulled out of pockets and Floyd's hands were secured in front of him. Together they carried him up the rest of the steps and sat him on a comfortable seat inside the craft.

When Floyd awoke he jerked awake with a small groan from inside. His hands were now secured to a metal bar on the side of the seat. He looked at Rossi who was seated opposite him and then at Hotch who was also watching Floyd closely.

'Motherfuckers.' Floyd said as he wriggled his hands. 'This isn't necessary. I told you… wait a fucking moment. Where the fuck are we?' He looked at the small window which had the blind pulled down and then back at Rossi and Hotch. 'I don't… I think… I think it would be wise to let me use the rest rooms.'

'Wisdom is why you are secured to the seat. We don't have time to go by rail or road. This is the quickest way and as you seem to have an aversion to flight we thought it necessary to keep you secured. You're not a prisoner Floyd. We just don't want you doing something which could endanger the other passengers.'

'I need a piss.' Floyd stated just before he leaned forward and threw up between his feet.

That was all he said which was coherent. He damned everyone to hell. He cursed out words which were spoken in a language no one but Floyd knew. He swore threats and by the time he'd howled himself into exhaustion they were landing. It wasn't the most pleasant flight anyone on board had ever taken. The cabin stank of vomit and urine… to the extent that even though air was being circulated it made eyes water and Seaver's hair to go straight. Hotch moved slowly over to Floyd who was slumped forwards with the safety harness around his middle and prodded him gently on the shoulder. 'We've arrived. Do you need a minute?'

Floyd looked up at Hotch with bloodshot eyes and a small shake of the head. 'Just one request Agent Aaron Hotchner… I get the train back. No arguments. No discussions. That's what I'm doing. Never _ever_ expect me to suffer a near death experience on one of these things again. Undo my damned belt thing will you? My hands…' He held out puke covered fingers, '… are slippery. Oh and I've pissed myself. Not through fear, but cos you kept me tied to my chair for a fucking _lifetime!_'

They allowed Floyd to clean up a bit and calm down from his horrific experience before getting back in to vehicles and carrying on. They were less than an hour away from a place on the map where Floyd said he'd left the forest and started walking alone back down to the main freeway. He claimed that from there it was about fifteen minutes to walk through the forest until they reached where he'd left Sam and Spencer had run off. To Hotch Floyd looked sick. He was pale and sweaty and when they pulled over where Floyd had indicated Hotch noted the slightly shaking hands that Floyd still had. He would have liked to have thought it was just a general sickness (maybe fatal – and soon) but he thought that Floyd had just had the fright of his life and been forced to do something he really didn't want to do. It seemed odd to Hotch that someone who was so blaze about death could be filled with terror so great that he passed out, released his bladder, and vomited. They let Floyd light up a smoke before moving on. Dogs were readied. CSU were waiting. Floyd was swaying, but he threw the butt of the finished smoke onto the road and left it smouldering as they walked into the forest and down what appeared to be an animal track. It was maybe only ten minutes later of Floyd's wobbly steps that Floyd hunkered down and indicated that everyone should stop.

'OK. This is where I left Sam. I put him under that shelter at the side of the clearing. You can clearly see where the fire was lit. I now have to remind you of your promise to take special care of what you find.'

Hotch said nothing but waved the Crime Scene people forwards. They were asked nicely to let them know if anything was found. The four man team walked cautiously forwards taking photographs of things as they went, setting markers on the ground and shaking heads as they pointed things out. After about five minutes Hotch was called forwards and asked to be careful where he walked. Floyd and Rossi followed.

There was tall brown haired man kneeling on the ground taking photos of what was under the shelter.

'It's Sam.' Floyd muttered. Floyd let Hotch and Rossi have a look first. Both men were hardened to seeing vile things and this was just another.

Hotch asked. 'Can you work with Flanders here?' There was a nod and a body bag was unfolded and laid on the ground next to Floyd.

'I moved him here.' Floyd told the CSU. 'He died over there. I dragged him and put him under here.'

The CSU said nothing.

Sam was still there, but what was left wasn't very recognisable. He still had his hair and the cycling shorts were still in place, but the rest of him had taken a serious battering from the elements. The buzzing of insects rose and then died away as they carefully moved what was left onto the rubber of the body bags.

'I have instructions that I have to observe.' The CSU told Floyd. 'I will be as gentle with him as is possible.'

Floyd nodded and sighed. 'Would have been better to have left him there you know? You're going to cut him open and do things with his bits. Not good. When I take his remains from you I want all of them. Nothing left in your cooler to look at later. No samples in jars. I want all of him back.'

There was a nod, but if the person was taking notice Floyd didn't know.

A hand rested on Floyd's shoulder. 'Good. You've done good. Now to find Spencer.'

Floyd looked up at Hotch and licked his lips. 'You know I'd sooner go back with Sam and make sure things are done correctly. They're going to know what happened but looking at the damage. I want to be able to be there to explain things.'

The CSU spoke up now. 'You don't need to be there sir. Sam will tell us in his own way exactly what happened.'

'Arsehole.' Floyd growled at the man. 'Just you be careful with him.'

Dogs barked, people started to move off, Floyd threw up again and then lit a smoke. Hotch watched him carefully, but he seemed to pull himself together as they moved off in one direction and the others with Sam walked off back to the road with their body bag of evidence, cameras, and bags of bits they'd picked up.


	29. Chapter 29

29

Spencer had lost track of what day it was. He sat on his straw and plaited little bits and made some into corn dollies which he sighed at and placed gently to the side. He'd not spoken to the teenager who was placed in the cave prison with him, but the lad had been taken a probably a couple of days ago now and hadn't returned. He was having either slightly burnt lumps of meat to chew on or was given a bowl of pottage containing unknown lumps of chewy stuff and watery slightly salty liquid. He was also given vegetables of various types. Some Reid knew what they were, and some were again unknown. He ate everything he was given though. Spencer decided that if he was going to survive this place that starving himself wasn't going to be a good start. He spoke politely to his gaolers but never got into conversation with them, and oddly since the incident with the cell phone they'd not been asking him questions either.

Reid wondered if they had a plan. If they had a plan was it actually taking place now? What did they want him for? What were they going to get out of this?

He had just settled down another little corn person when the cave door swung open. The chap with the eye-patch stood there with his hands on his hips.

'We're on the move.' The guy said. In reply Spencer rattled his chains. 'I'll get you unlocked later. Just warning you that if you try to escape or warn someone I'll have no hesitation but to kill you.'

Spencer nodded. 'I'll be ready.' He sighed.

'I dunno how you let them know, but…' He stopped wondering if he'd said too much. 'I was gonna leave you here, but they voted and want to take you with.'

'I see. Well I don't know if I should thank you or them.' Spencer said. There was no tone of sarcasm in his voice. Spencer was being serious. Sarcasm wasn't one of his greatest abilities.

And so they collected him at mid-morning. They removed the chain around his ankle, dragged him to his feet and prodded him with sticks as warning of what would happen if he attempted anything. Spencer wasn't inclined to be tempted to run off. He'd spent many a day, week, month in the forests with Floyd but Floyd had never shown him much more than what mushrooms he should or shouldn't eat. His survival skills for forest life were amazingly lacking. When Reid stepped out of the cover of the cave he could see that the people had almost finished de-camping. The tents were down, the log cabins were pulled apart, belongings were packed away. A few children stood around looking grumpy with dirty faces. Big dirt bikes were revving up with big bearded men sitting astride them. Spencer was guided in the direction of one of them. He was going to have to sit behind one of these brutes. The thought made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. There were a few reasons for this. He was suddenly missing Floyd like he'd just had his heart ripped out. He didn't want to sit behind this man and hold on like he did when he was with Floyd. He didn't want to close his eyes and rest his head on this man's back. He didn't want to feel that person move as they took corners and bumped over lumps and holes in the road. Most of all he didn't want to get so close to this man that he would smell of him.

'I was wondering if I could walk.' Spencer muttered when he was told to get his skinny white arse onto the back of the bike. He was told in very short obscene words that he was in actuality going to ride on the back of the bike and he was going to hold on and he was going to stop complaining and be thankful that he didn't have to face what was coming for them. 'And what _is_ coming for me?' Spencer asked and was told it was dogs. Dogs were on their way. Reid cautiously wrapped his arms around the man and sighed. The smell of leather from his jacket and the smell of sweat and dirt along with the vibrations of the bike brought back again the feeling that if Floyd didn't find him soon he would just die of heart failure. Spencer didn't think he could live much longer without Floyd there to keep him safe. 'Just dogs?' Spencer moaned.

'Not just dogs. Obviously not just dogs.'

That was what he was told and any more information was not given. The bike moved off quickly and oddly didn't go in the direction everyone else seemed to be walking in. A train of people in furs and rags walked off one way and the men with the bikes and shotguns slung in holsters zoomed off in a different direction. This wasn't the best scenario Spencer could think of.

o-o-o

Floyd crouched yet again and placed his fingers onto the earth. He'd felt the place Spencer had beaten Sam. He'd felt rage emanating from the soil. It was thick and dark and vile. It made his lip curl as he'd walked over the ground, but he'd also felt deception and jealousy and hate from another source… most likely from Sam. There was also what he'd been feeling at the time himself… it was a sharp painful feeling of shock, pain, and helplessness. The feelings all mixed together just made Floyd want to get the hell out and off to look for Spencer. He found that place he'd been snatched from. He'd been tracking rage and fear and anger mixed with sadness and guilt… Suddenly it changed and the taint on the ground was now a sour and bitter taste of defeat. It was easy to pick up on Spencer, Floyd knew him well. He was used to sensing Spencer's fear and doubts but this was different. It was as though he was grabbed, and he just gave in to it. He didn't fight it particularly, he didn't try to get away. He was just snatched. Like a child would be in a mall. Gone in the blink of an eye.

'Fucking fucks.' Floyd had announced. 'He was here. Someone took him.'

They already knew that someone had taken him. They told him that.

'Well if you don't want my fucking help, I'll go.' Floyd stood and wiped dirty hands on the leg of his jeans. He glanced back to where they'd taken what had been left of Sam. 'It's almost impossible to think straight when I have a good idea that they'll be screwing the top of Sam's head off and removing his brain. It kinda puts me off what I'm doing here.' Floyd walked in a small circle. 'They had motor bikes. Big dirt things.' He pointed in a direction. 'And they went in that direction… but it was long ago… the trails not going to be easy to follow by scent. It's only so strong here because this was the place it initiated.'

Hotch walked to stand next to Floyd. 'They wont remove any part of Sam. They have instructions to look and that's all. Finger prints and samples for DNA I'm sure will be taken. They will want to know what happened.'

'I could be there telling them. I could…'

'First we take care of finding Spencer.'

Floyd ground his teeth but nodded. 'Take care of the living first.' He stated. 'This might take a few days you know. I hope you've got a change of undies.' Floyd turned away from Hotch and walked quickly through the widely spaced trees. They walked for most of the day in silence. There was the occasion yap from a dog and curse word from Floyd, but mostly no one spoke. When Floyd suddenly hunkered down again and cocked his head to one side, Hotch was next to him in a flash; being very careful not to actually touch him.

'Problem?' Hotch whispered.

'Yes.' Floyd whispered back and then raised a hand to silence Hotch. Floyd turned his head and looked back at the dogs. 'Cant you keep those fucking mutts quiet for five sodding minutes? It's like trying to listen out for a single raindrop in a thunder storm.' He now looked back at Hotch. 'I have a suspicion about something and it's not helped by those animals back there. I cant think. I cant keep focused. Get rid of them or my assistance stops now.'

'They are helping track.'

Floyd shook his head and plucked at some leaves on the ground. 'No, I'm tracking, they're following me. Haven't you noticed that? I'm in front. They're just tracking me. Not too difficult really is it? Hotchner… I heard something and I'm going to investigate what I heard. I don't want or need the distraction of dogs biting at my heels.'

Hotch gave the silent dogs a quick glance. 'What did you hear? I cant let you go running off on your own. You know that.'

'I don't know that at all Aaron. Listen…' He pointed to his own ear.

Hotch listened and all he could hear was the slight breeze in the leaves and the occasional noise of people behind them. 'I don't hear anything.'

'If a tree falls in a jungle and there's no one to hear it, does it made a sound?' Floyd smirked at Hotch.

'Of course.'

'And you know that how? Sound is a result of the ear drum vibrating… if there's no ear drum to vibrate then there is no sound. Sound can be recorded using electronic equipment, but again there has to be something there to pick up the initial vibrations of sound. Therefore the answer is a resounding _no_.'

Hotch frowned at Floyd. 'What has that got to do with anything?'

'Just because you cannot hear it, doesn't mean it's not there.' Floyd stood and stretched slightly. 'Spencer was taken in that direction. There's a trail… an obvious trail to follow. The dogs can pick that up easily enough.' He now turned and looked in another direction. 'I'm going that way though, not because I don't believe he was taken and forced away that way, but because he's not there now. He's travelling roughly south-east. I'll go get him. Sit here, wait, have a picnic, play ball with the dogs, or carry on and find that he's already gone, but I'm going alone.'

This time a hand reached out and grabbed at the sleeve of his shirt. 'You're taking us to where Reid was taken.'

'That's not what the deal was Hotchner. You requested my assistance in location Reid. Reid isn't there anymore. He's been moved. In that direction and that's the direction I'm going in. Fuck the dogs. I heard him.' Floyd tapped his temple. 'In here. Are you going to shoot me in the back Hotchner? As far as the law goes I've done nothing wrong. You have no right to stop me. I'm going. Shoot me in the back if you so wish… watch your fucking feet too. They've set traps. Not all is as it appears to be. If you follow, follow slowly and quietly and if I signal for you to keep down you will keep down and keep quiet.'

Floyd didn't wait for an answer. He turned and started a long loping jog in the direction he said he thought Spencer was going in. He jumped over small bumps in the ground. He sidestepped things which he didn't like the look of. He could hear Hotchner and Rossi stumbling behind him, but he didn't care any more. Spencer was getting away from him. After an hour of this running Floyd stopped and cocked his head to the side and put up a _silence_ hand and made a cutting gesture with the other. The forest fell into a deep silence… almost. Somewhere in the direction they were going… Even Hotch could hear it now… motorcycles.

'I fucking _told_ you.' Floyd hissed. He lowered his hands and took a few deep breaths. 'Are you going to carry on or stay here and wait for us?' The dogs seemed to have gone now. 'Dogs?'

'The dogs have carried on in the direction we'd been going. I can hear something now, but it's not coming our way.'

'Not our way, not yet. They're not going in a straight line… they're circling… no idea why. I'll keep going this way… eventually we'll pick up the tracks and have a better idea of what we're dealing with here.'

Hotch nodded and again they broke into a run. Floyd ran almost as though he was an inch off the forest floor. He ran on the balls of his feet at a speed somewhere between a full pelt run and a jog. It was a speed which was hard to keep up with. But at least it was consistent. Half an hour later again Floyd stopped. He turned and looked at Hotch and then at Dave who was very obviously out of breath and finding the travelling hard work.

Flanders was shaking his head slowly. 'Something feels very fucking wrong.' Floyd hissed at Hotchner. 'Very…' His eyes flitted from Hotch and back to Rossi again and then to Hotch. The alarm bells were ringing so hard in Floyd's ears that it was making his eyes water. Something was wrong, or something was going to be wrong very soon. 'Any chance that I can carry on alone? No didn't think so. It's just… something's making my skin itch.

'Fleas.' Rossi suggested.

'Being around arseholes.' Floyd countered. 'Come on then… just be doubly aware of where you're treading.'

o-o-o

The bikes rattled on stopping occasionally for four of the men Spencer was with to wander out into the undergrowth and fiddle around with things. He could have run. He could have slid off the bike and legged it, but for what reason? So that fur clad hunters could chase him and shoot him in the back with a shotgun? Spencer didn't fancy that.

They returned after about ten minutes with smiles on their faces. Spencer didn't want to even start to consider what they'd been up to. The big hairy man slipped back onto his bike and looked at Reid who was sitting with his back to a tree.

'Come along then sweet thing.'

Spencer sighed and walked over to the bike. He slid himself back on and wrapped arms around the man.

'Scared you'll fall off? You have a mighty tight grip for such a skinny little thing.'

'I'm not scared.' Spencer told him. 'But I don't want to go flying off the back and hit my head on something; which would be very likely. I'm used to riding on bikes and I always hang on tightly for much the same reason.' That last bit being a lie. Spencer held on tightly for the simple reason that he loved to wrap his arms around Floyd's body and… He stopped thinking about that. It was wise to. He didn't want this ride to be more exciting that it had to be! 'What were you doing out in the woods?' Spencer asked him as the bike moved slowly away.

'Someone has been tracking. Following for a while. They had dogs, but they've gone now. It's just a few men. So we've laid a couple of surprises for them. You'd not have a problem with that though would you? After all one of them is the chap who virtually handed you over to us in the first place. The one called Floyd. Sam's friend.'

Any joy Spencer was feeling about the wind in his hair and the vibration of the bike between his legs was gone in an instant. 'Floyd?' He asked stupidly.

'That's the one. He's with some other people. No need to worry. The son of a bitch wont get you… Hold tight! Bumpy ground.' The man was grinning broadly. Spencer couldn't see his face but he could feel the thumping of this heart under his hands.

o-o-o

Floyd dashed off again at a sprint. But from behind him Hotch could see that he was looking around constantly. He didn't know Floyd well enough to be able to tell if he was being extra cautious or if he was just observing his surroundings for pleasure. Spencer would have been able to tell. Spencer would have been able to tell Hotch that Floyd was panicking slightly. It didn't happen often, but when it did… Well there was a good reason for it… usually. At least in Floyd's head there was a reason for it.

They jogged on for another couple of miles. Floyd had to keep stopping to let the others catch up, and though that was the only reason he stopped for some twisted reason Floyd didn't let on. He crouched and felt the ground and sniffed at his dirty fingers and then waited a few minutes. Once the others had caught up and had a minute to catch breaths, he was off again.

It tingled up his spine and shot down across his hips and into his groin. Floyd stopped so suddenly that it looked from behind that he'd run into something. He could see broken twigs and snapped branches. He could see where the ground had been scuffed. That wasn't what stopped him though. He was staring up at a tree. His hands at his side were clenched into fists. He was muttering something under his breath as Hotch moved up and stepped in next to Floyd.

'What?' Hotch asked. He was hot and tired and not looking much like the calm stoic Fed anymore.

'Don't move.' Floyd hissed. 'Not a foot.' Floyd carried on looking up into the branches of the tree.

'What can you see?' Hotch did as he was told and stood very still… he too was looking upwards, half expecting to see a dead Spencer hanging there.

'Absolutely fuck all. That's the problem. The ground is disturbed. They've been here…'

Hotch took a step forwards.

It was an odd sound. Almost like a bird, or some kind of flying creature. They both heard it. Hotch didn't know what it was. Floyd did. This was why Floyd suddenly reached out and pushed Hotch to the side out of the way of something sweeping down from the tree.

Hotch felt Floyd push him. He heard a soft sweeping sound and a thump. He was on his knees on the forest floor when he turned to look at Floyd, about to shout at him… but he snapped his mouth shut again. Floyd was looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

'I told you not to fucking move you stupid motherfucking cunt!' Floyd spoke with his jaw clamped tight. One of his hands was on his chest and the other was holding onto something in front of him. Something which had swung down from the tree and impaled Floyd in the chest. 'Now this is a fine mess.' Floyd wanted to kneel down and alleviate some of the pain of being stabbed by a flying bit of tree, but it was still attached to the tree by a long bit of chain. 'You going to help or just sit there and look stupid?'

Rossi moved to Floyd's side and looked at the spike in Floyd's chest. Hotch stood and took the couple of steps to Floyd's other side. 'You pushed me out of the way.' Hotch informed Floyd.

'Well yes. You see I have a fetish for being maimed by flying trees and other objects. Get that bit of chain off the end and get going. Spencer… Reid needs your help. I'll be fine.'

He shouldn't have even been talking with that thing in his chest. Rossi had a quick look to see if it was coming out of his back and seeing that is wasn't let out a soft sigh. 'We can remove it.' Dave said gently.

'I will bleed out. Just get the fucking chain off so I can at least sit down and work out what to do. If I fall it's going to do damage I'll not be able to deal with quickly.'

The man should be dead and Rossi knew that. He fiddled with the chain and removed it from the end of the spike and helped Floyd lower himself to the ground. 'We cant leave you.'

'Dave, you have no option but to leave me. Go and find him… please… get your arses out of here. They're playing games with us. Dangerous games it would appear. Aaron? Aaron… you don't have to thank me for saving your life. It was gut instinct that did it, not a need to keep you alive. I would have done that for anyone. Even Reid.' As Floyd spoke his fingers played around the edge of the spike. He was tempted just to pull it out. It wouldn't do any more damage than it already had, but throwing a bit of guilt at Hotch was never a bad thing in Floyd's mind. 'Keep going the direction we were. There's obvious tracks. I can hear the bikes. Just follow it.'

Hotch closed his eyes for a second to try to get his thoughts into order. 'Reid, as far as we are aware is not injured. You are.'

Floyd shook his head. 'Stop pantsing around and move your tight white rears in that direction. Get him and come back for me. It's not going to kill me, but it's sort of delayed me for a few. Now get the hell out and watch where you walk, though I suspect that this mess here was the result of setting this thing up. If you hear anything untoward just throw yourself to the ground.' Floyd glanced down at his bloody fingers. 'GO! For the love of fuck get the hell out of here and find him!' Floyd looked up at Rossi and sighed. 'My concern that you don't go isn't because I have any feelings for Reid. That's long over. My concern is simply that you'll not do what is needed to be done and the blame will fall on my shoulders again. I can only take so much Dave. Eventually that weight is going to crush me.'

Hotch nodded, Dave rubbed at his beard. 'Very well.' Dave said. 'We will come back for you.'

'Of course you will. You still have Sam's death to get me strung up by my balls for don't you? You're not going to let me get away with that.' Floyd dismissed them with a wave of his hand and the pair of them walked onwards through the forest.

Floyd stayed on his knees with his hands around the spike until they were out of sight. He then touched the end of it carefully and gave it a practice tug. It moved slightly but didn't actually come out, so Floyd lay on his back and with his knees bent and his teeth clenched he grabbed the spike and gave it a harder pull. It made a squishing squelching sound as it slid out of his chest. Floyd threw the spike to the side and screwed his eyes tight as his fingers investigated the damage. 'Nothing I cant cope with.' He rolled onto his side and then pushed up to his knees. Blood bubbled and ran out of the hole in his chest and a couple of coughs later he was spitting blood onto the floor at his knees. 'Right… now you motherfuckers have a hurt and pissed of Flanders to deal with. I hope you all have groin guards on. This is going to be a blood bath.' He pushed up to his feet and then dropped back to his knees again. 'Fuck.'

Floyd stayed where he was on his knees for ten minutes. It was ten minutes he didn't want to waste. They would be back soon. The circuit they were taking was going to bring Spencer to him. Hopefully Hotch and Dave would be further ahead and would miss the main bit of fun. The Feds had guns. Floyd didn't. He would be mighty pissed off if all of this fun was taken from him by a couple of metal slugs. He crawled around for another five minutes looking for a particular bit of fungus which he then chewed on for a further minute then spat it out onto his hand and stuffed it into the bleeding hole. Using a tree to get to his feet, Floyd shook away the light headedness and walked in quick sure strides at a slight angle to the direction Hotch had gone. 'Leave a man to bleed to death huh? It should have been you, you bastard. Next time it will be.'

The track the bikes had been taking was easy to see. They had left behind muddy gouges in the forest floor. Floyd stood on the track and looked in both directions, listening for the sound of the bikes coming back again. They were out there… in the distance. He had time to prepare himself. As a rule Floyd didn't carry weapons. He had made a promise to Spence many years ago never to carry a gun and knives just got in the way. It was too easy to be disarmed or for the weapon to not do what you wanted it to do, but even so today Floyd picked up a length of tree branch, much like the one Reid had smacked Sam with. He tested it on his palm and smirked to himself. The rumbling of the bikes was getting closer. He quickly checked behind him to ensure that Rossi and Hotchner were not around and then stood still in the middle of the track. He stood with his feet together and his hands at his side; one of them clutching the bit of wood and the other in a tight fist. He stood with his head cocked slightly to one side. They would have a choice, run him down and die, or stop and die. Floyd really didn't care which it was. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and a slight buzzing in his ears… his right eyelid twitched annoyingly and a flying insect landed on his booted foot. Floyd licked his lips and took a deep breath. It was time. Every muscle in his body prepared for battle.

The bikes stopped. Which was in a way fortunate. No one moved. They were about ten foot away from Floyd who was just standing there staring off into the distance behind the bikes.

'Get out of the way.' One of them demanded.

Floyd's eyes seemed then to focus. He turned his head slowly to the lead biker. 'Spencer get off the bike and come over here.' Floyd's voice was quiet but still very clear.

'If the Fed gets off the bike I'll take his fucking head off.'

'The Fed will get off the bike. He will come over here and you will not touch those weapons. I'm not here to have a fight; I'm here to recover what you took from me. Spencer, now please. The game is over. Time to go back home again.'

Slowly Reid moved off the bike. No hands had yet gone to the holstered shotguns, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't. 'Floyd.' Reid whispered to himself. He'd been correct. Floyd came in the end. A Floyd covered in fresh blood. A Floyd who looked like he was going to obliterate every living creature within a ten mile radius. 'I'm fine.' Spencer said. 'They didn't…'

'Don't give a flying fuck Spencer. I'm here to take you home so move your sorry and very dirty arse over here quickly. I'm in no mood to negotiate with these creatures.'

Spencer took a step forwards. A big beefy hand landed on his shoulder. 'You want your little buddy to be blown to pieces?' He asked Reid. Spencer stopped walking and looked at Floyd questioningly.


	30. Chapter 30

30

Spencer sat on a log with his head in his hands. Floyd sat on the ground next to him and pressed his fingertips to his eyes. Spencer heard what had happened. He'd heard screams and the revving of bikes and howls and ripping splashing noises which if he looked at the mess would be able to place, but he was feeling very disinclined to do so. Floyd remembered none of it. He could remember that look Spencer had given him. He had remembered seeing someone pull a shotgun from a thing on the side of the bike but the rest was a blur. Spencer was alive. That was the only thing which mattered to Floyd. He put a blood drenched hand out and touched Spencer's foot which in turn twitched.

'I made a mess.' Floyd sighed.

'Yes.' Spencer sighed in reply.

'Hotch will he here soon. He would have heard gunshots.'

'What gunshots?' Spencer lifted his head and looked down at the top of Floyd's.

'No gunshots? I could have sworn… never mind. They would have heard the screaming.'

'You screamed.' Spencer muttered.

'I did? I cant remember.'

'You… howled like a monster dragged out of hell.'

'I am.'

'I know.' He paused. 'Thank you.' Spencer rested a hand on the top of Floyd's head. 'They took me and didn't have a clue what to do with me. I'm sure they would have killed me.'

'I'm sure they would have too. I would have been here sooner but… I failed you.'

At this Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'Failed me? You didn't fail me.'

'Should have been here sooner, but I thought you'd gone home. I thought Hotchner knew where you were. I looked for Sam. I searched the alley ways and bins and gutters for him and I should have been looking for you.'

'Sam.' Just one word from Spencer as he twisted Floyd's hair around his fingers.

'I can replace Sam. I have replaced Sam… I cant replace you. Can you walk? We should get out of this place before Hotch arrives. I don't want to be answerable to this mess. If we can guide him back towards where we came from he need never see this.'

'It's not how it's done, Floyd.'

'I'll die for this.' Floyd waved a hand around the scene which looked a bit like a mad butcher had emptied his bins in the middle of nowhere. They'll have something to nail my arse to a loony bin wall for eternity. I still have Sam's demise to answer to.' He reached out and grabbed Spencer's hand. 'So you can walk?'

'I can.'

The pair of them stood and put their backs to the mess. 'No gunshots? I swear I heard gunshots.'

Spencer smiled wanly but didn't reply. The men didn't have the chance to use the guns. Whatever sound Floyd had heard had been his imagination. They walked quickly away from the ripped up remains and broken bits of bike and towards where Floyd had last seen Hotch and Rossi.

'You need to let me take the blame for what happened to Sam.' Floyd told Spencer after about five minutes.

Spencer shook his head and took hold of one of Floyd's hands. 'I don't know what came over me. I just cant explain it…'

'Then there's no need. I'll say it was me. Not because I don't think you deserve to be locked up for a long time for what happened, but because I cant get to your lovely butt if you're someplace else… and that risk… that very big risk that you'd be abused constantly night after long painful night, by either your cell mate or by that big black bloke who stalks the shower block. Just cant have that happening to you babes. I'll say it was me. If they lock me up then I'll just have to escape again somehow. I'll send you encrypted messages which only you will understand and I will fashion an escape pod out of cocktail sticks and little bits of chewed up gum and tobacco. You will of course have to eat all messages I send to you so I will obviously avoid long letters and messages chiselled in stone, but you will get a boat and sail to a secret location somewhere in the Mediterranean and we will live out our lives happy and content.' Floyd squeezed Spencer's fingers. 'The three of us.' He added.

'You are bonkers. You know that? All joking aside though… I have to answer for what I did to Sam.'

Floyd squeezed Spencer's fingers harder. 'Nope. I've already said it was me. He bit me. Did you know that? When you smacked him on the back of the head he bit my Mr FunTime and made me bleed. I can still get an erection… ask Hotch… No actually don't. But I can… It's painful, but I'm sure some gentle rubbing and kisses will make me all better again. We can test that later. For now we should locate Hotch and Dave. Let them see I'm not dead. They'll think I am. I got sort of stabbed.' Floyd told Spencer of the incident with the thing flying out of the tree and showed him the hole he'd plugged. 'I need that sorted. Bleeding internally. Lungs don't feel quite right. Light headed… talking crazy… Kill mode on. You know?'

Spencer knew well. At least he knew the talking crazy and kill mode bit well. They walked until they were sure they were far enough from what was left of the men on the bikes and then Floyd sat down and rested his head on his knees. 'Do me a favour and call out for Hotch and Dave will you? They were moving slowly… I don't think they'd have gotten too far. I just need to rest a while and try to get focus back.' Reid stood and looked down at Floyd and then turned and started to call for Hotch and Rossi. He called for a few minutes before getting a very distant reply.

'I'll walk out and meet them. Bring them back here. Will you be OK?' Spencer knelt down next to Floyd and placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Of course I'll be OK. Get and find them. Bring them back and keep your sodding mouth closed about what happened. You can do that?'

Floyd's voice had taken on a spiteful tone which gave Spencer plenty of reasons to start walking away. 'I'll be back though.' He ensured Floyd.

'I know you will. It's getting dark. You'll want your comforts.'

o-o-o

Floyd was correct about Hotch and Rossi not getting far. The hunters had set many a trap and one of them had pitched Dave down a hole where he'd had a hard time crawling out of again. Calling back and forth soon had Spencer reaching their location. Dave was sitting with a pained look on his face and Hotch was pulling a flashlight out of one of his pockets.

'Reid!' Hotch took a few quick steps forwards, but Spencer put up both hands palms forwards.

'Floyd.' He stated and then jabbed over his shoulder with a thumb. 'Are you OK Dave?'

'Don't worry about me… you're here. They let you go?' Dave struggled to his feet.

'They didn't have much of a choice. Floyd…' Spencer shrugged. 'You know how persuasive he can be when he puts his mind to it. He's back there waiting.'

Both men nodded and Spencer stood looking nervous. He picked at the cuffs of his shirt where Sam's blood had long ago dried in and made them stiff and itchy.

'It's getting dark. We wont get out of this place tonight.' Hotch stated.

Though Spencer hated the dark and hated the forest in the dark even more… Floyd was there… The darkness didn't seem to bother him when he knew Floyd was around. 'This way.' Spencer turned and started a slow walk back. Dave was obviously in pain so Reid didn't rush, but he kept forward enough that Hotch couldn't touch him or ask him questions he didn't know how to answer.

It was fairly easy to find their way to where Floyd was. By the time they arrived there was a roaring fire and bits of something stuck on green sticks cooking slowly. Floyd was sitting by the fire with the flickering glow making his face look somewhat demonic. He waved a friendly hand at Hotch and Dave and ignored Spencer.

'Camp all set. Food prepared. Shelters made.' Floyd said. 'I've time now to sing a merry song about living in the wilds if you so wish? Dave my pal, what's wrong with your arm?'

It was dislocated and obviously very painful. Spencer sat by the fire and dutifully turned the meat on the sticks without dropping any of it. Hotch sat and watched him closely. He had a lot of questions to ask and didn't want to ask any of them in front of Floyd, who had just announced that he could fix Rossi's shoulder easily if he could cope with blinding balls shrinking pain for a few seconds. Dave indicated that he thought he could and was therefore handed a stick.

'Bite on it.' Floyd instructed him.

'You know what will happen if you break my arm?'

'Apart from big teeth marks in the stick? I guess Hotchy will whoop my arse for me big time. As that's not something I want to happen not now not ever… well maybe one day, but when he's had a wash, I'll be sure not to either break your arm nor pull it off. Bite down Mister Agent Man and think of your dogs… no not the dogs… think of something else… what do you like Dave? Whatever it is, think of that. Lay down then and let me sort it for you… bite bite bite… There… all fixed. NO! Don't fucking move. Stay still. I'll bind your arm to your chest or it'll be fucking agony. Eat this mushroom… no… give it back… wrong one. That will just make you puke… this one will make you high and this will relieve pain… your choice. Ah not the one I'd have chosen, but never mind. That's the one I nibbled on and stuffed in my hole… my injury… stab wound hole… not my arsehole. It makes you a bit talkative sometimes with some people, though I've never noticed that effect on me. Spencer though… shit does he babble on. Sit up and let me tie his around your shoulders and… good… keep your arm like that. You'll need that checked again when you get back to civilisation but it'll do for now. The joint is back in place. You've dislocated that before? It causes an irritating weakness sometimes. You're lucky I was around to help you out. Keep turning the meat Spencer… well done. So Hotch, how's it going with you? Need a foot rub or anything?'

Dave put the bit of mushroom down and stared at Floyd who had suddenly shut up and moved over to prod at the fire. He looked at Hotch who was watching Spencer who was staring at Floyd's hands. The atmosphere wasn't the greatest. Floyd felt light headed. Spencer was scared to breathe, Hotch was waiting for whatever Floyd's next trick was going to be and Dave was fighting the urge to complain that his shoulder hurt. Floyd handed out bits of cooked meat to Dave and Aaron. He'd put bits on big shiny leaves and added roots he'd toasted over the fire and some berries. Floyd advised that they took a bit of each.

'The flavours are best taken together. Don't look worried, I'm not going to poison you. If I wanted you dead it would have happened long ago, actually if I had that sort of animosity towards either of you I'd never have come to you in the first place. I've been thinking, that big white house… I'll let you guys have it. It's nasty. Sell it, give the money to charity or some such shit, but I owe you for what you've done. That's assuming you don't put me in the slammer and I'm not for one second trying to get out of what happened to Sam, but as I've previously indicted, Sam's not really totally dead… I mean if I can find him…'

'If you killed Sam you will be punished.' Dave spoke calmly as he picked at the stuff on his leaf.

'But if I can find him? If I can prove he's still out there then what?'

'Then we will have to work out whose remains we discovered.' Hotch spoke this time.

'Oh but they were definitely Sam's. But if I can prove that he's still alive?' Floyd insisted. 'You will give me that chance? Unique circumstances require unique lines of enquiry don't you think?'

'I think we need to sleep.' Dave countered. 'There is nothing we can do until we have reports back from the lab. Until then I'm going to keep an open mind.' Rossi was looking closely at Spencer as he spoke, but didn't get a reaction from him. Spencer seemed more interested now in something stuck between his toes.

So it was decided. Floyd had constructed three small shelters. One for each of the agents. Floyd said he'd be keeping watch and thus wouldn't need a shelter. He avoided eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Reid might as well have not been there for all the attention Floyd gave him.

Spencer decided not to push the point. He didn't want to anger the man and so he slunk into the shelter made of sticks and leaves and lay on his side looking at the darkness.

Floyd sat and looked at the fire and continued to prod at it for a while. He could hear the moans from Dave as he tried to settle on his bad arm, and the wrigglings of Hotchner attempting to get comfortable. What he couldn't hear much of was Spencer. Spencer who he had been fine with all the time they were alone and then had ignored when Dave and Aaron were watching. Floyd threw down the stick and slowly crawled over to the small shelter Spencer way laying awake in.

'Hey.' Floyd muttered as he slid in next to Spencer. 'Didn't wake you did I?' Arms wrapped tightly around Reid.

'I was hoping you would join me.' Spencer whispered back. 'A bit awkward with Hotch and Rossi so close.'

Floyd started to unbutton Spencer's shirt and run fingers slowly over his chest. 'I cant fuck you.' Floyd groaned into Spencer's ear. 'Injuries. I can get a woody but I think scraping that tender skin against your hungry backside is going to cause pain which in turn will prevent me from performing as you'd like. I'll have to keep tonight as gentle touching. Spence?'

'Yu hu… I need to apologise, but you don't accept apologies so I don't know what to do.'

'No need to. I'm slowly getting better. If it'd been you who'd bitten me I'd be recovered already… no slur on your fantastic teeth and mouth but Sam's are slightly – well demonic – and healing time alters. It's a worry of sorts. It never occurred to me before that Sam might actually be a danger. I'm going to have to be more cautious. That's not really the point though is it sweet thing?'

'It's not the point.' Spencer agreed, though what he was agreeing to he wasn't sure.

'I tried so fucking hard to dismiss my feelings. I pushed you away, mentally. Cant be done. I'm truly fucked Spencer and I place all that blame on you and the only thing I can think of to make things even slightly better is for you to suck my nipples for a while.'

Spencer thought he'd heard wrong. 'You want what?'

'I've missed you. That night… when things went wrong, I'd told Sam to piss off. I'd told him I'd chosen you. And then that happened. He was trying to persuade me. You stopped him. I was in fucking agony. Not only my soul and heart… pathetic as that might sound, but my damned prick too. I thought I was going to have to have it amputated. It was nearly a week before I dared get it out and have a look. Thought it would come off in my hands… but… Nope. So you smacked my Sam. I sent you away cos babes if you'd stayed I'd have killed you… if I could have taken my hands off my balls and dick for long enough to do so. But it was for you, you see that? I went back to your apartment to see you. What are you doing? Lay still and let me nibble your tender places.'

'I'm undoing your buttons…'

'Oooh… those are not my shirt buttons Spencer. You'll not find nipples down there.'

'Thought you wanted to be kissed better. I will be gentle.'

'I might still howl the camp down. Spencer!... Where the hell did you learn to do that? Oh fuck!'

A grubby hand rested over Floyd's mouth. 'Hush.' Spencer whispered.

o-o-o

Whilst Spencer desperately attempted with a reasonable amount of success to reclaim Floyd, Hotch and Rossi lay with eyes open attempting to close their ears to the rustling and murmurs coming from where Spencer and Floyd were. The night seemed endless and once sounds of one sort stopped another began. Someone was walking around the camp.

Hotchner slowly crawled out of where he'd only vaguely tried to sleep and saw Floyd sitting at the fire side with a contented grin on his face.

'Join me.' He gestured over at Hotch. 'I was just about to get breakfast ready.' Now he waggled a stick at Hotch.

Hotch did join him but not because he wanted to have breakfast with the man. What ha wanted was to talk to him before Spencer joined them. 'We need to talk.' Aaron sat down on the ground next to Floyd.

'It's OK. You don't have to say anything. I accept your gratitude. A fag?' He held out a cheroot.

'You have to understand that doing one thing which isn't against the law does not in any way wipe out what you've already done.'

Floyd bit down gently on his bottom lip and sighed. 'There's no pleasing some people is there? You'd have given me a royal bollocking if I'd not found Spencer for you. What the fuck is your problem Aaron? What have I ever done which you find so offensive? I've loved Spencer, cared for him… kept him alive against all odds. I've given you the pleasure of being part of the companionship and letting you in… I've let you get to know Sam and I've even accepted that Spencer likes to rub his dirty, dirty, slut body against you, yet you keep on fucking with me don't you? The way I see it Hotch, my buddy, is that the only way I'm ever going to get you off my back, like a sour faced monkey, is to abscond with my Spence and disappear into the never never land of _forever out of your hair_. You want that? You want me to take Spencer by the hand and lead him away so you'll never see or hear from him again? No… don't even try to tell me that's what you want, but if you fuck me around like you're trying to then you'll find that's exactly what I will do. I have no fucking care if that's what Spencer wants, so going to him begging him not to leave you wont have any sodding effect. I'll just take him and like an insane magical demon I'll be gone and so will he. I'll leave you with Sam though. Just as a reminder of where you fucked up and who you messed with. Your choice Hotchner. Mess with me and you'll be crying tears into your pillow for an eternity. It's no idle threat. Never think that.'

Hotch rubbed his hands together in the chill morning air. 'You encouraged young men and women to take their own lives, then you run away and commit murder. It has to be answered to.'

'Firstly you have no fucking proof that I encouraged any fucking fuck to fucking kill themselves. Secondly… murder? No… not murder. I reset the game. I moved the pieces around and rolled the dice again. I'm still to look under my little tortoiseshell dice shaker to see what numbers came up. I'm not ready to look yet, but when I do you'll see that you don't actually have any fucking control over anything. You might sit there with your supposed authority and a warrant demanding my arrest waiting on your damned desk, but I'm way beyond your jurisdiction, motherfucker, and don't you ever forget that.' Floyd stood up and kicked dirt at the fire. 'You want fucking breakfast, make it yourself. I'm done with you and I'm done with Rossi. I'm not getting in that fucking tin can and going back to wherever it is you have planned on taking me. I'm leaving, catching a train maybe and taking Spencer with me. Try to stop me and you'll have a lot of regrets. I've done nothing. You have nothing to hold me for, you have no proof of anything and you never will have. Spencer is a grown man and I think you'll find that he'll rather be with me than be with you. Fuck you Hotchner. Spencer wants _my_ dick up his arse not yours, so back away and leave us in peace.'

Rossi appeared just as the chatter around the fire died out. Floyd gave him a dirty look which in reply received a beard rub and a raised eyebrow. 'You were listening? Of course you were. People like you listen at doors and look through keyholes. Any other job and you'd be done as an old pervert. You have a problem with me Dave?'

'I have a problem with people who have bad attitudes.' Rossi replied. His arm was still secured across his chest.

'Well that's not a fucking problem if you keep your nose out of my damned business is it?' Floyd turned his back on the pair of them and walked over to the shelter he'd shared with Spencer. 'Wake up! I'm leaving and you're coming with me.' There was a mumbled reply.

'He doesn't have to go with you.' Dave informed Floyd.

'No, you're right. Spencer doesn't have to come with me, but if he doesn't there's going to be some amount of pain and it probably wont be his… at least not yet. I have something special planned for him. Cake, strawberries, a good red wine, sweetmeats made of soft marzipan… you know the sort of thing? If you really want to know my opinion on what is going on here ask Hotchner. He's going to allow me to walk away from here, with Spencer, and I'll meet you back at your happy place of work when I return. I'm not flying home. I tell you now… never… ever again am I flying. It's a good thing for you I've said that. You will have less of a search for me when I leave this damned country and go home. Now Spencer get out here… and boys see you later.' Floyd gave them both a small salute. 'I will answer any questions you have when I get back. I'll be a few days longer to get home… Fuck with me or with Spencer _or_ with Sam and you'll ever see any of us again. Though I doubt you'll consider my mysterious disappearance a shame, you'll forever wonder what happened to Spencer.'

There was on way that Hotchner and Rossi were going to allow Floyd to take Spencer from them again before they'd had a chance to talk to him properly. To both of them Spencer seemed withdrawn, which wasn't surprising seeing as he'd been held captive for a couple of weeks. They needed to know what had happened to him there. Had he given information? As it was they knew that he'd handed over telephone numbers but was the situation worse than that? Hotchner hoped not and doubted it. Rossi wasn't so sure. They were both also curious about the strange dynamics between Floyd and Spencer. Sometimes Floyd seemed to be overly attentive to Spencer's needs and the next Floyd appeared angry and impatient with him. For Spencer this was nothing unusual. Had Floyd's mood been loving and attentive continuously he thought it might become suffocating and overpowering. Spencer needed that change. Spencer needed to feel that he had to keep looking over his shoulder and be constantly aware. It meant that he had little time to relax, but that's what he was used to. It had been going on for so long now, that when it wasn't like that Spencer felt lost. For now they followed Floyd back in the direction they'd originally come from. They had a full day to walk before reaching the road and being able to contact the rest of the team. They had no information about whether the men with the dogs had found anything and they obviously had no information on the remains which had been located.

o-o-o

The Train Journey Home:

For Hotchner and Rossi it was time to sit back and look at the countryside drifting by.

For Floyd it was time to have fun.

For Spencer it was time to be squashed into the small toilet cubical and have Floyd do to him what he wanted. There wasn't much room and the hygiene wasn't wonderful, but if Spencer knelt on the toilet seat and Floyd wedged himself in between said toilet and washbasin, there was just about enough room.

There were complaints. People wanted to use the facilities which were constantly engaged.

Someone actually dared to speak to Floyd about it.

Floyd used some very ancient phrases and words on the person – the implication being that if he spoke again Floyd would rip off his balls and issue them to the victim in a white plastic dish (with separate compartments for veg, meat, spuds). The gent thought seriously about complaining to the authorities about the threat Floyd made to him. However he never actually made it to the next station. The Gent somehow managed to fall out of a very narrow window. A tragic loss to his wife and mother but not really to anyone else. Security were curious as to how or why a generally mentally stable man would do such a thing, but when security footage was inspected carefully they could clearly see that The Gent was alone. The cajoling, threatening Flanders was off camera saying nice things like. 'You want me to eat your wife from the cunt up?' And such like. Floyd considered that this was at least giving the moaning fart a chance to survive. He had no intention of eating his wife's cunt… or any other part of her, but The Gent wasn't to know that when he slid himself through that narrow window to his messy death.

Apart from that, the trip home was uneventful. Spencer had some new bite marks on his back and some scratches on his shoulders. He also had a nice set of bruises around his hips… and his knees hurt. There were no outward signs that Floyd had been rough with him. No black eye. No split lip. Floyd turned on his charm and got coffee from the restaurant car and sandwiches which only curled slightly at the corners. He made sure that Rossi and Hotchner had nothing to complain about. Floyd smiled. He told some jokes. (Spencer didn't understand them). And he sat back relaxed and happy that he'd gotten his own way and they were in a train and not on a tiny speck of a plane flying at hideously dangerous speeds through a sky which at times seemed to be more crowded with things than the ground did.

'The thing is.' Floyd said when they were about half way back. 'If in the air and something goes wrong you die. If on the ground you just pull over onto the hard shoulder. It's not a fear of flying. It's more of a reluctance to put my life in the hands of a couple of blokes locked in a room at the front. What the hell happens if they run out of fuel?'

Rossi began to explain that that scenario was impossible. Floyd explained that it wasn't. That was the end of it. Discussion was over. Floyd moved onto the pleasures of going on a cruise.

o-o-o

Floyd wanted to go home.

No.

Floyd wanted to go to Spencer's home, but as he was still paying the rent on it he considered it as much his home as it was Spencer's. However this wasn't something which was going to happen yet. They didn't offer either of them time to rest. They were taken – escorted – to be interviewed.

They talked to Floyd first, allowing Spencer to get a change of clothes and a shower. Spencer removed the shirt he'd been wearing with the blood stains covering it. They'd not asked him to deliver his clothing for forensic testing and Spencer didn't offer it. However he didn't hide the fact that there was blood on it either.

Floyd was directed to a secure room with nothing breakable and a table and chairs bolted to the floor. Not the most comfortable of situations he'd been in but not the worst either. He sat with a sigh and picked at his teeth whilst complaining that he was tired and needed sleep. Rossi spoke to him. He had had time to glace over at the contents of a manila folder and what he read he found interesting. It was the Sam situation.

'Explain to me exactly what happened to Sam.' Rossi let Floyd smoke. It was better than having him try to kill everyone who looked at him.

Floyd stubbed out the cheroot he had and lit a fresh one. 'I needed time alone with Spencer. I told Sam that I needed him to leave me. I sent him away and he wouldn't go. He was attempting to offer me something to persuade me that he was of more use to me than Spencer is or was… But…' Floyd inhaled deeply. 'He bit me. Spiteful little shit that he is. I dragged him off me, threw him to the ground and picked up a large bit of wood I'd readied for the fire and beat him around the head with it. Once he'd stopped screaming and had shut the fuck up I stopped. He just lay there.' Again a deep drag on the smoke. 'I knelt next to him and pressed my hands down on his chest. There was nothing. Simply nothing. He was gone. That's all.'

'When you hit him, where you standing or kneeling? Was he on his front or his back?'

Floyd frowned at Rossi. 'I was standing. He was on his back. I smacked his face in.'

'You complained initially that he'd bitten you. You were…'

'Fuck… yes he bit me, but hasn't rage ever overcome you to the point that you feel nothing?'

'Cant say it has.'

Rossi just sat and watched Floyd smoke for a little while. When he stubbed it out and left the butt to sit with the first Floyd spoke again. 'What's wrong? I've told you what happened.'

'Forensics speaks otherwise Floyd. What are you covering up? I'm curious as to you intentions. I know you didn't do that to Sam. We all know you didn't to that to Sam, but if we go by the book and consider how you should react to what happened, you shouldn't be taking the blame for this.'

'I don't fit into any category you have in your damned books. And for your information I'm saying I did it because I did. There would be no reason for me to say otherwise.'

'Unless you are protecting someone.' Rossi replied.

'Yes unless I am protecting someone, which I'm not.' Floyd rested his arms on the table in front of him. 'Arrest me. Let me go find Sam. Do something. You know the answers to your questions already. Why are you keeping me in this room quizzing me over it?'

'Sam's remains…'

'No!' Floyd suddenly stood and began pacing the room. 'Shut the fuck up about his damned remains! That's just a carcass. Something which held his spirit. I fucking well explained that! I just need those bits back. I need it finished so I can go locate where he's gone. Get your fancy tech to look for him. Somewhere out there his name will pop up. You have a look. You'll find him. He knows what to do. He will make himself seen and known somewhere somehow. You're driving me fucking insane with your obtuse ideas and thinking. It's maybe not how you see it. It maybe not how you want to see it, but that's how it is… at least for me and for Sam and maybe now for Spencer. Do you understand me?'

Rossi requested that Floyd took a seat again and then opened up the folder. 'Tell me what you did.' Rossi asked again.

Floyd shrugged and sighed. 'Do you know what I am, Dave?'

'A psychopath.'

'Apart from that. Do you know what I am? Have you seen what I've seen and been where I've been? Hotchner knows. Spencer knows. They would understand.'

'Sam had horrendous chest injuries. Post mortem. Tell me what happened.'

'Fuck you.' Floyd closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples with his fingertips.

'He had defensive injuries to his hands and arms. Four broken fingers and a broken arm. He had three broken toes. He died when the bones of his face where driven up into his brain. His…'

'Maybe the defended himself. I don't remember. I was in a bit of a rage. I don't always remember what the other person is doing.'

'Yet you know he was on his back?'

'Only way I can think that I was smashing his smug little face in.'

'What was Reid doing whilst you were attacking Sam?'

'Nothing.'

'Not trying to stop you?'

'Nothing.'

'How do you remember if you were in such a rage that you could feel no pain and didn't know Sam was defending himself?'

'He bit me. I pushed him off. He fell on his back. I picked up a bit of wood and smacked his face in. It all happened very quickly and Spencer was in the shelter I'd made. Spencer saw nothing. Spencer had nothing to do with it. He didn't try to stop me because in effect he wasn't there. Now can I go?'

Rossi shook his head. 'Not until you tell me what happened. You're a liar and a very good one, and sometimes those lies are good enough to get past me, but not today and not over this matter. Explain to me why you are protecting Reid and why Reid attacked Sam.'

'I killed Sam. Spencer came out of the shelter and saw what I'd done. I told him to run. I told him to go away and go home. He did as I told him.'

'Did Spencer touch Sam after you'd attacked him?'

'No.'

Rossi stood up and nodded. 'I'll get someone to bring you some coffee and something to eat. Try to relax.'

'Am I under arrest?' Floyd muttered.

This time Rossi shook his head. 'What for? I don't believe a word you've said. I'll talk to Reid and see how his story matches yours.'

'Then I can go? I need to find Sam.'

'You can sit there and relax. I've not finished talking to you yet.'


	31. Chapter 31

31

Floyd had given Spencer his instructions whilst he administered love via his fingers, fist, tongue, and other body parts he could squeeze lovingly into Spencer. Yes it had caused Spencer to yelp and jump and squeal, but Floyd thought it got the message across in a manner Spencer would remember, so when asked by Rossi what had happened his answers came out with the memory of what Floyd had done and what Floyd had promised if Spencer kept his word and said what he was told to say. It meant lying to Rossi. It meant lying to someone he respected and trusted with his life. Spencer didn't like it, but… Somehow the wrath of Floyd was worse than the sick feeling that he was being dishonest.

'I heard a noise.' That part was true. 'I was sleeping in the shelter and the sounds woke me. I crawled out and saw Floyd attacking something. I couldn't see what or who it was. I walked over towards him and he turned to me and instructed me to run. He said that if I got closer or if I stayed within reach he would carry on with me. I know that just being out of arms reach of Floyd doesn't mean I'm out of reach. I picked up my bag and I ran. I didn't look back. I ran… but not far. Someone grabbed me. I didn't see Floyd again until he… until I… well until he rescued me from the hunters.'

Rossi didn't smile. Rossi didn't speak. He stood and left the room. He knew Spencer was lying. He just didn't understand _why_.

'We can let Floyd go down for it, and that might be what would be expected, but they're both lying.' Hotch spoke as Rossi closed the door behind him. 'Reid at least got close enough to Sam to get blood on him.'

'I think we both know that he got a damned sight closer than he's admitting. His shirt was sodden around the cuffs and he had blood splatter over the front and arms. It's been tested. It's Sam's blood.' Rossi went to the area where there was a machine oozing coffee. 'So Floyd is lying to protect Spencer and as I pointed out earlier, a person with Floyd's personality disorder doesn't take blame for something he's not done. He also seems confused about Sam. He admits he's dead yet insists he's still out there.'

Hotch topped up his mug with steaming hot coffee. 'I've got Pen to tag Sam Trent and let me know if his name appears. Though unless it's an obit I don't see how that's going to happen.'

'As it stands…' Rossi continued as he searched the fridge for a donut, '… We know Floyd didn't kill Sam. The primary blow was from behind, that's why Sam bit down. Someone hit him on the back of the head, then dragged him away by his hair – it would seem – and battered him as he lay on his back. He tried to defend with his hands and maybe even tried kicking whoever it was out of the way… he put up a good defence. Kid must have felt most of those blows to his face.' A donut now in hand, Rossi took a nibble. 'But the chest injuries… post mortem. The heart removed. That is a thing Flanders does.'

Hotch sipped at the coffee and burnt his tongue. He hissed between his teeth in annoyance. 'Spencer attacked Sam. Made the killing blow, but it was Floyd who ripped open the chest and removed the heart. If that's what happened…'

'You know him better than me.' Rossi dropped the half eaten donut in the bin.

'We can put them together and see what happens.'

Rossi shook his head at that idea. 'See what happens?'

'How they interact.' As Hotch spoke the words images of a rough sex session spun a story through his head. He pushed it back and tried not to look as though he'd just seen a gay porn movie on fast forward. 'Confront Spencer with the evidence.' Hotch's voice was a whisper. 'and then put them together.'

So as Floyd sat and picked at a sandwich the door buzzed unlocked and Spencer slowly walked in. Hotch and Rossi watched from behind the mirror. Obviously Floyd and Spencer knew they were there, but they had not many options now.

'Hey.' Floyd stood and walked over to Spencer. He wrapped his arms around him and rested his head on Reid's shoulder. 'They treating you OK?' Muffled words shot hot breath over the fabric of Spencer's shirt.

Spencer reciprocated the hug and rested his hands gently, yet firmly on Floyd's back. 'They know it was me.' He spoke into the top of Floyd's head, breathing in the dirty yet wonderful smell of Floyd. 'I will have to say it was me.'

'And be locked away from me forever?' Floyd's finger tips dug into Spencer's back.

'Find Sam.' Spencer hissed. 'Find him and prove… I don't know.' Spencer now pushed Floyd back gently. 'I just don't know. If Sam is found then who was killed in the forest?' He still spoke quietly, but he knew that if Hotch and Rossi wanted to hear those words then there was nothing to stop them.

'You don't get it do you babes? I cant have you locked in the slammer. I wont accept that as the outcome to this incident. I'll do that. I can survive it. I'll even fucking stay there for the term they give me. I'll accept anything, but I'll not accept you going there and suffering for a crime you never committed. You don't have to. There's no need.' Floyd's hands slipped down Spencer's arms until just their fingers were touching.

'I did.' Spencer sighed.

'No babes you didn't. You had a nightmare. You saw me clobbering Sam, you ran over to me and tried to pull me off. I swung at you. You grabbed at Sam and attempted to pull him away from me… I shoved you back and swung at you again. You moved out of my reach and I told you to run. That's what happened.' Floyd turned to look at the mirror. 'You hear that? You got my fucking confession. What the hell else do you want from me?' Turning back to Spencer, Floyd smirked lazily. 'Find Sam. Present him as evidence that I've not killed him. I'd have admitted to killing Sam. If he's found then the crime never existed. You see? I'll be out of that fucking animal cage in a jiffy. You just need to find him and present him to Hotchner and Rossi. Go find him babes. The quicker you can do that the quicker this is going to be over. Go home. I can contact you there. Go now Spence.'

'Why?'

'Fuck… why do you damned well think? I'm protecting what's mine. I don't want to fuck someone who's been gang raped. Find Sam. Wait for me.'

Spencer sighed again and snagged hold of Floyd's fingers. 'I'll find Sam.' He licked his lips. 'I'll find him. Don't worry… but…'

'Oh I hate that word _but_, at least when used in that context. No buts and no excuses. I drove you to virtual insanity by getting Sam to fuck with your head out there. Yes you drove the bone into his brain and killed him, but I drove you to that point. I'll take the blame… but maybe I'll change my mind in a couple of minutes so run… run babes… go find Sam and put an end to this mess.'

'They're watching.' Spencer lifted a hand and ran a thumb over Floyd's lips.

There was a shrug in reply. 'You've enough memories to keep you going for a while? I can fist you now if you want. The table is screwed to the floor… I can screw you to the table?'

Spencer shook his head. 'I'll find Sam and you… you don't do anything stupid.' Spencer smiled. 'OK nothing more stupid than usual. Thank you.'

'Yeah… Thanks? Great. Now fuck off will you and leave me to the fates. I don't want to see your face again until Sam is there with you. Just do one other thing for me, as I'm not going to be in the position to do it myself. Get Sam's remains and bury them. Bury them deep.' Floyd slumped back down into the chair and rested his forehead on the table. He heard the door open and buzz shut again. 'Mother fucker.' Floyd hissed. 'The fucking things I do for you…'

o-o-o

Floyd behaved. He surprised everyone who knew him. He walked silently out of the room he'd been held in and accepted the cuffs on his wrists. He could have gotten out of them if he'd really wanted, but he didn't bother. In Floyd's mind really he'd done nothing wrong. They would understand that once Spencer had played his part and recovered Sam. This would also assist (maybe) in forming some kind of bond between Sam and Spencer. Sam's greed and spite might (if all went well) dissipate when Sam realised that actually Spencer was an OK chap. It would give Floyd time away from both of them. Time to get his head together and relax. He suspected that he'd be segregated from the main mob at whatever place they decided to put him. This was what he desired. He didn't want to have to interact with anyone. He wanted to curl up on a bunk and know he'd not be disturbed unless they were bringing him food.

Not everything turns out as you'd like.

Even though Floyd was dumped into the main bustle of the high (very) security prison as he awaited the sentence he was going to be given, he still managed somehow to remain calm. He did as he was asked. He showered without feeling the need to rape anyone. He ate his food at the long benches full of tattooed murderers and sort of felt at home. Floyd wasn't sure if he gave off an aura at all… some kind of _leave me the fuck alone_ sort of thing but people tended to keep their distance from him. This suited Floyd.

He was told he had to talk to a therapist.

Floyd talked.

The therapist reported back that he was of the opinion that Floyd was in the wrong place and would be best suited somewhere where he could receive the treatment he needed. '_The man is seriously disturbed._' The therapist had months of nightmares after talking to the prisoner he'd been allotted. Two years after the event he was still waking up at least once a week screaming. He gave up his job. He divorced his wife. He never saw his two young sons again.

They assigned someone else to talk to Floyd, but they only visited once. Mr Green didn't think that therapy was the answer.

They tried Floyd out working in a small workshop. It only happened the once. 'The prisoner isn't suited.' They were instructed. Thus most of his day he spent laying on the cot in the cell. He happily played pool and cards and didn't even cheat. He did nothing wrong. Nothing that fingers could be pointed at him and accusations made. They didn't even consider that Flanders had anything to do with the horrific murder of a big dark skinned man a few cells down. They questioned everyone. Everyone including Flanders denied it. The weapon used, which was a hand made knife fashioned out of something, was never found. When disputes occurred over whose turn it was next to play pool, Floyd stood back and didn't get involved, not even when it was him who'd started the dispute.

There was nothing Floyd was going to do to prevent that one thing he desperately needed.

Visitors.

Or in Floyd's case Visitor – singular.

To be more precise, Spencer.

Floyd looked good in orange.

Spencer told him so.

Though Floyd didn't think it clashed with his hair or complexion it still wasn't a shade he'd have chosen.

'Have you found him?'

Always the first thing asked when Reid sat at the plastic table and stared at Floyd who always looked so strained and tired.

'No.'

Always the same reply.

'You're not looking hard enough babes.'

Spencer looked down at the table. 'I'm doing my best.'

'Your best is not good enough Spence. I'm here for you. The most you can do is find the one person who can get me out again. It's doing my head in saying _please_ and _thank you_ to these motherfuckers. It's doing my fucking head in having to share my personal space with these bastards.'

'I know and I'm sorry, but I don't know what else to do to find him. I've been searching the streets. I've looked in all the places you've suggested and come up blank. Not only has he not been there recently but no one seems to have remembered if he'd been there at all. I need something else. Any ideas… I don't know where else to search.'

'Rehab centres. He will have some connection with drugs and alcohol… maybe the porn industry. He's out there somewhere Spencer and people wont remember the old Sam… it's this new one you're needing to find. Forget the old one. Talking of which have you sorted his remains?'

Spencer nodded. 'They were handed over to me last month. I took them and did what you told me to do. I buried them deep… and far away.'

'Good, good… at least whatever's happened to him he'll move on now.' Floyd stood. 'Go find him.' He turned and raised a hand. 'Time.' He called out to a guard. Spencer sat at the table and watched Floyd walk away from him. No backwards glance. Nothing to indicate that they were anything but old friends. Nothing except the painful loss Spencer was feeling. The guilt. The feeling that he'd let Floyd down.

That evening Floyd was accused of cheating at poker. A fight broke out. Eyes were blacked, lips split, noses put out of joint. It was the first fight Floyd had been in. It was his one year anniversary. He spent it in solitary. He sang. He sang Mmmbop. It echoed around the cell and made Floyd grind his teeth and pick at his toenails. His eye hurt. He had a bloody crust under his nose. His knuckles were split as was his bottom lip…

'_Where the fuck are you Sam_?' He muttered as he curled up and closed his eyes. '_Just give me a glimpse. Let Spencer find you._'

_Fuck you, you murdering cunt. You're getting what you fucking deserve. _

'_Sam?'_

_As said. Fuck you._

'_Where the hell are you?'_

_Wouldn't you like to know? Now get the fuck out of my head._

o-o-o

The next time Spencer applied for a visitor's pass it was turned down. He was told that Flanders no longer wished visitors from friends or family and to contact them again in six months to see if the situation had changed. They were sorry if it caused any distress.

Spencer's heart sunk.

He knew that he was losing Floyd again and now he couldn't even get into the place and try to talk him out of it. He had no idea if Floyd had a cunning plan or if he was just pushing Spencer away out of… spite (?) he wasn't sure spite was the correct word but as he stood there with the letter in his hand he felt such pain that he for a few seconds thought that he was just going to fall over dead. He slumped in his comfortable leather arm chair and wept. He felt pathetic. Floyd was the one locked up. Floyd had decided for some strange reason that the wanted things to be like this, but it didn't stop Spencer from feeling as though the world had caved in on him.

And it was Floyd's fault.

It was Sam's fault!

Spencer screwed up the letter and threw it across the room. He had to find Sam. It was over a year since Floyd had been locked away. He'd wasted a year messing around walking down dark alley ways trying to get drug dealers and pimps to talk to him. He'd given up his job in the BAU and was working part time in a library. It wasn't the most wondrous job and it hardly took up much brain power but that was good. It left him time to think. Try to figure out where the hell Sam might be. He sent out messages via local newspapers trying to get Sam to contact him. He then tried national newspapers. There was nothing. Not even one mysterious phone call. He tried to search online for births and deaths… there were some Sam Trents, but none of them were the correct one. He spent hours wandering around art colleges and universities, until he was barred and told if he came back he would be arrested. He wrote in every month for a visitor's pass, and every month was refused.

Reid contacted Hotchner. He more than contacted him. He went to his house and sat on his doorstep for seven hours until Hotch finally pulled up outside his small home. A home made for a bachelor. Spencer jumped to his feet as Hotch walked slowly over towards him.

'Hey.' Spencer did a quick smile.

'Reid.' A short unfriendly reply. 'Is it something important? I've had a long day.' He glanced at his watch.

'I need to talk to you.' He spoke quickly and quietly. He hoped that it sounded like what he needed to say was important.

Hotch opened his door and led Spencer down a white hallway and into his comfortable lounge. 'Drink?' He asked Spencer as he got himself a whiskey. Spencer indicated that he'd like a drink and sat down. 'So, Spencer, what's going on?' He had a good idea that it was Floyd related.

'As you know Sam is still missing.'

This again… Hotch just nodded.

'I really need your help.'

Again a nod but with words this time. 'I really don't know what you expect me to do.'

'You know Floyd didn't kill Sam.' Spencer fairly spat at Hotch.

'I know nothing of the sort. He's incarcerated. He cant get to you there. Leave it. Live your life Spencer.'

'He's innocent. You know he is. How can you let this happen? Why wont you help me find Sam?' Spencer stood and started to pace. 'I thought you would help me. Floyd's refusing visitors. I cant talk to him. I cant find Sam…'

'There's a good reason you cant find Sam.' Hotch sipped at his drink. He was tired of this mess. He wanted now to shower and go to bed. 'He's dead.' Hotch finished. 'I don't know what sort of delusion you are living under Spencer, but it's been nearly two years. It's time you accepted what happened. I know Floyd didn't kill Sam, but I think considering everything he got away with in the past, well that's the reason I'm in no hurry to prove otherwise.'

'You will leave him to rot because you don't like his attitude?' Spencer was dumbfounded. He honestly thought he was hearing things.

'That's not quite the reason. It's more than his attitude I don't like. For you Spencer it's time to move on. I don't know what you're looking for in life but I'm sure it's not working four hours a day in a stuffy library. You're wasting your life. Now if you want help getting back on your feet again then I'll stand with you and I'll assist but I'll not even consider pandering to your delusions about Sam.'

Spencer put the glass down on the polished table. 'I thought you of all people would understand. You know it's not a cut and dry case of Sam dies and Sam stays dead. You _know_ that!'

Hotch looked into his glass but remained silent. He listened to Spencer's footsteps going down the hall way and the listened to the door slamming behind him. Only then did Hotch look up and hurl his glass at the wall which annoyingly bounced and landed whole on the blue and red patterned rug. Hotch knew Floyd hadn't killed Sam. He knew Spencer had. But he also knew that all the time Floyd was locked away he was not abusing Spencer. He was not going on his rampages. He was away. It was time to move on and heal. He just hoped that Spencer could see that. Hotch also knew that somewhere out there Sam was waiting. Lurking and waiting his turn.

o-o-o

The Teevy Family.

Things once were sweet for them, and in many ways still were sweet for them.

They had three children. The eldest Abe Teevy had been adopted when he was a baby. They'd not been able to have their own offspring naturally, but yet the following year Mrs Teevy for some miraculous reason gave birth to twin girls. Emma and Emily Teevy.

They had money.

They had a lot of money.

Actually they had a sick amount of money which they got through _honest_ ways and maybe a few not so honest ways. It didn't matter how they achieved this wondrous wealth, what mattered was it was theirs. They had a number of houses. Rather large houses not only in America, but also overseas. Life was good. Vacations taken in weird and wonderful places. The children went to the best private schools which could be found… at least until two years ago when slight disaster struck.

It was a lovely summer day in Montana when things went wrong. A lone cyclist was the only real witness to what happened. She was out peddling lazily down the exclusive street with broad grass verges and cherry trees spaced at regular intervals. Houses down this way all had big electric gates. They mostly had dogs wandering the grounds. The homes were set back in beautiful manicured perfect gardens.

As she peddled by one of these homes she noted something odd. She stopped her bike and put her feet on the ground but kept her backside on the saddle. Her white sneakers had a pink twinkly strip along the edge and they caught the sun and sparkled. The house though. All the lights were on… which was odd in a way as it was a beautiful sunny day, but the light seemed strange. It wasn't the yellowish light you'd normally get from a normal lightbulb, but a bright dazzling white light. It even seemed to be coming from the chimney… She was sure of it… even though it was mid day, and the sun was shining, there was what seemed to be a beam of light shooting up from the chimney stacks. She stared at it for a while at first not noticing the ground trembling under her feet. She thought it was her own puzzlement making her shake.

The gates of the house… big black metal bars painted gold on the tips… began to rattle.

Lisa Monroe was scared. She was petrified. She was rooted to the spot staring at the big double doors at the front of the house and then a movement. A movement at a window. She thought initially that it was the drapes fluttering, but then she was sure it was a person standing at the window. Male or female she couldn't tell but someone was there in front of that bright white light.

The explosion.

She would report later that the force of the explosion knocked her off her bike, but it didn't. She fell over in shock of what she saw. The house was shaking… the gates buzzed and swung open. The house exploded.

The person in the window was blasted outwards and onto the hard surface of the driveway.

Lisa screamed. She told reporters later that she felt the heat sweep over her. But she didn't. It sounded more dramatic though. There didn't seem to be flames. There was just that horrendous white light and then dust… a lot of dust, flying bricks, bits of plants which had been uprooted, and everything you would normally find inside a house.

Her pink cell phone was in her pocket. She dialled 911 as she looked at the person still laying on the driveway, now covered in bricks, and pottery, broken tiles, dust and earth.

Abe Teevy was in a bad way. The staff at the hospital told his parents to expect the worst. He had head injuries… some broken fingers and a broken arm… he had three broken toes. Abe Teevy had horrific chest injuries, a broken jaw and a skull which had been fractured in more than one place. He had lost a lot of blood. He was made stable and put on life support for a month… they kept him in a drugged induced coma. They said that the shock of the injuries would kill him.

Abe had been at home alone when it happened. They couldn't ask him what had occurred. Lisa's report of bright lights and the ground trembling under her feet was not to be believed. She was known as someone to spin a story to make things more dramatic. The Teevy family brought in investigators to try to work out what had happened. No one knew. They tested for gas leaks and such like but came up with nothing at all. They said it was more as though a huge amount of pressure had built up and the place simply exploded through the force. Much like putting an egg in a microwave oven.

The Teevy family had other homes they could move into, but they wanted to stay close to where Abe was hospitalised. The two girls were sent to stay with relatives and Mr Teevy went back to work to make more money to replace what had been lost in that house. Insurance was being iffy over whether to pay up as there was no sensible reason why their house had collapsed as it had. Mrs Teevy spent time sitting by the bed at the hospital, she watched the teenaged boy struggling to live and she read a lot of pulp romance novels and did a lot of cross words. She also talked to Abe a lot. She talked to him almost constantly. The doctors had said it would be good for Abe to listen to a familiar voice.

Unfortunately… for Abe, as he was being called, this voice was not familiar at all. He had no memory of this woman. When they finally let him wake up and he was able to see where he was, Abe opened his mouth and screamed a name. It wasn't a name Mrs Teevy recognised, but it made her skin crawl as the word was ripped from her son's mouth.

'_Floyd_!' He howled. Just that one word. Just that one name.

Abe recovered from his physical wounds with remarkable speed. It was his emotional and mental health which was the problem. The doctors said that it was because of the damage done to Abe's brain when he'd smashed his head against the drive way. They told Mrs Teevy that they'd seen things happen like this before, but really that was not much help. Abe was not the same person anymore. The changes weren't even subtle. For anyone who knew Abe before the accident the changes hit them so hard that they sometimes even recoiled.

'He will get better.' Mrs Teevy's sister proclaimed. 'Abe is still in there somewhere.'

But Abe wasn't there. Abe had died that day when he was propelled by some demonic force through a window and had smashed against the place in the drive way next to the man hole cover for the main water supply. Abe had died. Sam had been reincarnated in the worst way possible. Sam screamed and howled and spat and tired to bite people. He used words which had never been in Abe's vocabulary. He called his crying mother _a stupid cunt_ and he constantly cried and begged to be allowed to see someone called Floyd. Abe also stopped answering to his name. He insisted that his name was Sam. He insisted that he didn't know who these people where. He wanted to file charges of kidnapping, abuse… anything to get him away, but as his body recovered and his mind span and spat out curses and insults at everyone the Teevy family were told…

'It is time Abraham went back home. Maybe he will settle in his own home.'

They took him to a house they had in Vegas. Mr Teevy had a small casino here. He was happy to spend time in this place. Abe… or Sam as he was now insisting on being called didn't seem any more settled. Actually he seemed to become even more uncontrollable. He refused to sleep in his bedroom, saying that it made him feel ill. He told them what and how to do his room and until they'd fixed it he slept under the kitchen window next to a plant pot full of lavender. Mr Teevy shouted at him. Sam said…

'You're just a fucking arsehole. Get off my sodding case you old fart and leave me alone.'

They talked about sending him back to school, but he was on so much pain medication that the doctors thought it unwise. They wanted to monitor him. They suspected that the pain he was saying he was in was an exaggeration. They were worried about the addictive properties of some of the medications they given him. They were also concerned that Sam (Abe) had started raiding the drinks cabinets.

'You shouldn't be drinking at your age!' Mrs Teevy told him.

'Oh my fucking god! You _still_ think you can tell me what to do?' Sam told Mrs Teevy.

'All the time you're living in my house you will do as you're told!' She shouted back.

'Well I knew you were a bitch, but I didn't know that you'd go to the extreme of throwing me out of the house. You're incredible!' Sam snapped back.

'I didn't tell you to get out! I just want you to stop drinking… and smoking.' She whined.

'I'm going out!' Sam whined back. 'It's not my fault I'm brain damaged.' And a tear, and maybe some snot too just to make her feel _really_ bad.

Sam would spend most of his day outside. He walked the wilds behind the house dragging a shovel and a bucket with him. He'd been asked what he was digging for and Sam always replied that he didn't know until he found it. But he was sure it was out there somewhere. Sam planted herbs and specialist plants in small pots under the kitchen window he used to sleep under. He forbade anyone to touch it.

'You little identical cunts, keep your hands off what's mine.' He snarled at his younger sisters when they came home during spring break. They looked at their brother in horror and walked away muttering about people with dirty mouths. They didn't touch what Sam claimed was his. They had a deep and very real fear of their brother.

Vegas… a lot of space and a lot of noise. Sam found it easy to wander off first thing in the morning and not come home until the early hours of the following day. Both of his parents wanted to know where he'd been all that time. Sam told them that they weren't his parents and had no right to know what he did or who fucked him.

They were horrified.

They thought (hoped) that he was just winding them up.

Track marks appeared on his arms. He didn't try to cover it up. Why would he bother? What did it have to do with these people? He was in receipt of a long lecture from Mr Teevy. Sam ignored him.

'You are throwing your life away!'

'Exactly. Nail on the head. My damned life. Not yours.' Sam replied.

'But we love you!'

'No, no you don't. You don't even know me. It was Abe you loved. I'm not him.' Sam walked away to his gape mouthed parents. He slammed the door behind him at nine o'clock in the morning on the Tuesday. At mid day of the Wednesday they filed a missing persons report. Vulnerable teenager… They were worried.


	32. Chapter 32

32

Whilst Sam found his feet again with his loving family, Floyd was finding his feet with his. The prison staff thought it odd that someone would request latrine duty, but that's exactly what Flanders requested. Apart from that one fight he'd caused no trouble at all. The only thing was his blunt refusal to work… that was until latrine duty came up. He jumped at the chance. It was what he needed.

'At last a chance.' He actually smiled. 'Those heads will be so clean you'd not want the president to piss in them.' Floyd didn't exaggerate. The place was sparkling clean… the grout between the tiles had been scrubbed and brought back to the gleaming white it had once been. Every smallest inch of that room was scrubbed with Floyd on his hand and knees and a happy smirk on his face.

But it was two years now. His patience was wearing thin. His ability to keep his dick in his coveralls was becoming a problem too. Floyd had kept himself much to himself for most of the two years but when Ivan 'The Knife' Seljack approached him in the showers he just nodded and turned his back. Floyd placed one hand on the shower wall and passed back the soap with the other. It was the first of many times. Goods passed hands. And yes Floyd was aware that he was whoring, but if he was going to ever get out of this damned place then he wanted something to complain about. He wanted to go to Spencer and pummel him to a pulp for forcing him to whore himself out. He wanted to keep bringing the subject up at the wrong time… he wanted to ply Spencer with guilt.

He also wanted to be molested in the showers.

He wanted it hard and rough.

He gave as good as he got.

It wasn't rape… it was business. Floyd got things like candy bars, cigarettes, dope… in exchange for giving or receiving. Word got around. It got around very quickly that this skinny pale man who seemed to smell of musk and disinfectant was a willing arse and mouth. On the days outside when the sun was shining and Floyd was doing a little work out with some weights or doing press-ups in the dirt someone would approach him. They would stand and make a deal with just a twitch of an eyebrow or a finger. Floyd had found his feet.

That didn't mean that he wanted to spend the next thirty years rotting away here. It didn't mean that he wanted convicts up his arse and in his mouth for the next three decades. Nope. Floyd was just passing the time. Time which needed to speed up a bit.

He also found, oddly, that a select group of men became a protective barrier between him and others. He never asked them to stand up for him or keep away those who would smack their little whore around…

Floyd could easily have protected himself, but his laid back manner and the way he avoided trouble made those who had gone into _business_ with him think that he was not going to be able to fight his way out of trouble. It was a situation Floyd accepted… As long as someone else was doing the fighting for him, he was keeping his proverbial nose clean.

It wasn't until later that it seeped through Floyd's smug brain that was what actually going on was these guys were protecting their property. Floyd was theirs as much as Spencer and Sam was his. Too late now. Way too late.

Floyd was aware of that sore place on his back. It rubbed on the rough fabric of his delightful orange clothing. How it had happened he didn't know. When it had happened he didn't know… but he sure as hell had a tattoo on his right shoulder blade now. _Property of Seljack_.

People come and people go in prisons. Seljack went. He went in a body bag. He'd taken something bad which killed him. Floyd stood at his closed cell doors with his arms folded. His cell mate who he rarely spoke to, stood next to him with hands in pockets.

'Don't think that'll stop them.' This man said. 'You're prison property now. They'll just move you someplace else.' He made a cutting gesture with his thumb across his throat at Floyd. 'Not me buster… not me. But someone sure as hell is going to get you for rubbing out Seljack and you've got the biggest motive right now. Watch your back.'

Floyd sighed and clutched at the bars. 'I will be going home soon.' He whispered.

'Yeah… appeal coming up is it?'

Floyd shook his head. 'No. Evidence is tainted. They have no case.' He turned to the man and smirked. 'And of course… the real reason… I didn't do it.'

o-o-o

Penelope Garcia jumped when her computer made a small _ding_ noise. She put down the knitting and looked at her computer screen and then frowned. The frown deepened as her fingers rushed over the keyboard. 'Oh my god.' She muttered and then stood… She could have sent the information she'd just received straight to Hotch, but she didn't. She printed it off and slipped it inside a file and after putting her shoes back on again and chucking her knitting in a green and pink flowery bag she walked quickly from her bunker to where Hotch was sitting in his office. She knocked and waited. She waited nervously… She was obviously nervous.

'Come in Garcia.' Hotch placed down the telephone and smiled. 'Is there something wrong?'

Penelope closed the door behind her and sat on the chair the other side of Hotch's desk. 'I had alerts set up when it first all hit and I never removed them. I didn't see a reason to remove them… and well… I got a hit. Just now… and maybe this might explain something because I did just a little bit of research because of it… I had to cover all bases… I have this.' She passed the folder to Hotch but kept one of her hands on it to prevent him from opening it. 'I know why we couldn't locate Sam Trent.'

Hotch sighed. 'I do too.'

'You do?' Garcia looked shocked.

'He's dead.' Final. No room to argue or negotiate.

Garcia shook her head. 'The reason we couldn't locate him is because he underwent a name change. A long time ago. Legally he's not Sam Trent. He's Abraham Teevy, and someone has just issued a missing person's report. He lives in Vegas. I did some tracking… you know as I would obviously… and I found his school year book online. I printed out a picture of this Abraham Teevy. But the missing person report says Abe Teevy, AKA Sam Trent. He was adopted.'

Hotch shook his head. 'It's not the same person.'

'I know. I know exactly what you're thinking. That body in the forest and everything, but look at the year book picture Hotch. And look at the other dates of things which have happened.'

She removed her hand from the file and Hotch slowly opened it. 'Go.' He instructed Penelope. 'If I need you I'll contact you and don't breathe a word of this to anyone else.'

'Lips are sealed sir.' She whispered.

Hotch did his own careful investigation for the rest of that day. It seemed that Sam Trent had been adopted as a baby. His name had been changed to Abraham Teevy. Now following an accident two years ago, Abraham Teevy was missing. His parents reported that he was behaving oddly and insisting of being called by his original name. They didn't know where he was. They were worried. They knew that he was taking drugs. Their son was out of control. They feared the worst. That evening as the team began to get ready to leave, Hotch invited Rossi into his office. He handed over the manila folder and then the added notes he'd made him self. He said nothing to Rossi. He didn't want to influence what he read. He waited. He waited ten minutes and began to fiddle with things on his desk. He waited another five and Dave looked up from the contents and frowned at Aaron.

'We will have to look into this.' He stated. 'But until we've confirmed one thing…'

'I know. I will keep an open mind and not talk to Reid about this.'

'You still have contact with him?' Dave raised an eyebrow.

'By letter. Funnily enough he's in Vegas. Coincidence?'

'Something we will soon find out.' Rossi said. 'Do you think we can get the jet for this, as it's part of the Flanders case.'

Hotch felt his face burn with heat. If Sam was found… if he was still alive… Flanders… what would happen to him. 'Flanders.' Hotch snarled. 'I was hoping he'd remain in that place until he rotted, but they've still not sentenced him. I don't understand what's going on with him, but I do check up and apparently he's the model prisoner. They wished everyone was as calm and well behaved as he is.'

Rossi nodded and placed the folder back on Hotch's desk. 'Well it still pertains to the case.'

So they took the jet. They took Morgan too.

o-o-o

The Teevy family were slightly surprised and more than alarmed when the Feds turned up at their ranch house in the suburbs of Vegas.

'You've found him? Is he… is he dead?'

Hotch shook his head slowly. 'We've not found him yet. No need to be alarmed. Most young men come home again safely.'

'Then why are you here?' Mr Teevy snapped. 'Abraham is just another missing kid. A trouble maker.'

'Oh Mike!' Mrs Teevy sobbed. 'He's not a trouble maker. He's just unwell.' Mr Teevy was making circular motions with one finger around the side of his head as his wife spoke. 'Since the accident. He's not been himself. I've tried so hard to do what he wants. He even wanted me to call him by a different name. He's doing drugs… I've seen the marks on his arms. I'm not so stupid that I'd not recognise that.'

Hotch listened. Morgan asked if he could look around outside. Rossi asked if they had any family photos… Hotch wanted to see Sam's… Abraham's room.

'You must understand…' Mr Teevy said. '… Sam refused to sleep in his room. He would only sleep in the garden until we had made his room out the way he wanted. It's not what we would have chosen, but I thought it better to do this and at least have the lad in side at night than have him sleeping on under the kitchen window like a dog.'

The room had been made fireproof. The door was heavy and made of metal. The room itself was black… everything was black. The floor was slightly squashy underfoot and closer inspection showed it was made of rubber. There was no bed. Around the edges of the room were multiple small bottles in different colours of glass and pottery. They stood no taller than six inches. There was an incense burner in one corner. The window had been blocked up… there was nothing else but a black painted box in the corner.

'Abe sleeps on the floor.' His father told them. Hotch wasn't sure if that was embarrassment or distress in his voice. 'The box in the corner holds all his belongings.'

Hotch looked through the box… it contained clothing… male and female clothing. A little red bag containing some silver eyeshadow and a stick of eyeliner. There were boots and jeans… skirts, sandals. Glittery broaches, hair slides, sun glasses, rings… finger and toe. Hotch asked the mother if she thought anything was missing. She burst into tears.

'I don't know! I tried to ignore the fact that sometimes he was dressed more like a girl than his sisters. I don't understand him! I don't understand this stuff. I don't know what happened when Abe hit his head, but whatever it was destroyed Abe and created this person I don't know. Abe wasn't like this. He was an average boy at school. He was liked and had friends. He loved his family and loved horseback riding… then it was just gone… like his brain was reset and he was given back to us, but that's not Abraham! Abe wouldn't wear skirts! He wouldn't wear glitter in his hair. Abraham was a real boy.' She finished.

'Do you know where he liked to go when he was alone?'

She shook her head. 'He was so secretive. For a while he would go out digging in the scrubs. I don't know what he was looking for and I don't know if he ever found it, but that suddenly just stopped and he began leaving the house early and coming back late… drunk… doped up… and the gods only know what else. He hinted prostitution, but that's so insane that I just cant let that form in my mind. Do you have children Agent Hotchner?' She got a small nod. 'How would you feel if your child had an accident and against all odds survived… and you celebrate the homecoming of your child and he turns out to not be your child after all? That's the only way I can deal with this… Abraham is right. He's not Abe… he's someone else. And I've tried to love this new person, but it's not easy Agent Hotchner. It's not easy at all. He goes into the city.' She finished on a sob.

'Does he carry a cell phone?' Hotch didn't want to consider that this situation would ever happen to him.

'No… no he doesn't. He had one and he said that the only person he wanted to talk to on a phone wouldn't use one. He kept on talking about this one person… how he had to find him. How he had to be back with him and say sorry. I don't know what for. I don't know. But he was muttering this just after the accident. It's not someone he's met recently… It's the person whose name he screamed when he woke from the coma. Floyd. Floyd Flanders. I don't know who this person is.'

Something hard crawled through Hotch's stomach. It crawled around making him want to vomit. This cant be happening. It wasn't possible. It was no more possible than zombies and vampires. It was insanity. He turned and looked at Rossi who appeared to be thinking the same thing. 'We will find him for you Mrs Teevy.' Hotch managed to say.

'Will you find Abraham though?' She wiped tears from her face.

Hotch slowly shook his head. 'I don't know. Let's take one step at a time.'

o-o-o

Whilst Hotch and Rossi were talking to the family and Morgan was having a look around outside, Sam was walking back home again. He wasn't in the sunniest of moods. Usually when he spent time away from _home_ he made sure that he had enough money in his pocket to get a cab home again. Things hadn't worked out that well though and he wasn't about to hitch a lift. Not after what had happened last time he got into a stranger's car. Sam was muttering to himself and kicking up dust as he walked through the scrubs which backed onto the property he lived in… (or at least was living in whilst he tried to work out where he was meant to be.) There were horses out in a field to his right. _The Parents_ had tried to encourage him to go riding again and though he would have liked that rather a lot (Sam always thought he was a spectacular horseman), he didn't want to do anything to make The Teevy Family think Abraham was sneaking back in again. He walked along the edge of the fence giving the horses side long glances and then opened a gate which gave him access to the back yard and where his beloved plants were.

The gardener was there crouched down next to his tubs.

He knew he wasn't meant to touch his things and Sam walked over, forgetting the pain in his head and hip and jaw, and ignoring the way his right eye had all but closed up and he stood silently behind the man. He'd not seen him before. Maybe he was new. Sam prodded him in the back.

'They're mine.' He snapped at the top of the man's cap. 'You don't touch what's mine.' A line of angry drool spat from Sam's mouth and landed on the backwards peek of the cap.

Slowly Morgan turned around. He knew that voice. He'd not had so much contact with Sam as the rest of the team, but the venom in Sam's voice was unmistakable. 'We've been looking for you kiddo.' Morgan put on a smile, trying to ignore the mess Sam was in.

'Morgan.' Sam sighed maybe with a small touch of relief.

Slowly Morgan stood. He didn't want Sam to go running off again, not that it looked like he was in much of a state to go running. 'You OK there?' He asked in a cool calm way.

'For a dead kid I guess I'm doing great. I need a shower. Are you here alone?'

'Hotch and Rossi are here too.' He gestured towards the house. 'Your parents reported you missing on Wednesday. It's Friday now.'

'Got held up.' Sam wiped his hands over his face. 'Are you going to take me away from here? They're not my parents you know? I'm not who they think I am.' Sam sat down on the ground in front of his pots. 'I grow shit. It's for smoking. You cant get the stuff here. It's all fucking cactus and scrubby weeds. Cant smoke it. I tried. This stuff is good though.'

'If I go and get Hotch will you stay here or run off again?' Morgan stretched languidly trying his best not to startle Sam.

'Can Hotch sort this shit out?'

'I don't know kiddo. But we're all going to try.'

'Do you know where Spencer is?' It wasn't the question Morgan had expected. He thought Sam would be more interested in where Floyd was.

'I'll go get Hotch. Need a drink? Water?'

'Yup. Thirsty like a whores cunt I am. Ta.' Sam pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his head on his grazed knees and sighing deeply.

o-o-o

Sam was still sitting there by his pots when Hotch walked out. He'd advised the parents to wait inside. He held a beaker of water which he placed on the ground next to Sam.

'I don't know what's going on.' Sam stated when he caught a glimpse of feet that could only belong to Hotchner. 'I woke up in hospital and everyone thought I was someone else. I'm going fucking crazy trying to work out if I am really me or this Abraham person. I don't think I am… I have very strong doubts that I'm actually either person. I've been trying hard to figure it all out but there's so many blank spaces.'

Hotch hunkered down next to Sam. 'Look at me.' He needed to see for sure that it was Sam.

It looked as though Sam had been in a fight. There was a crust of dried blood under his nose and dried blood smeared over the side of his face. There were also livid bruises on his neck and jaw… his right eye was mostly closed with dark circles under the other. 'What happened?' Hotch gently moved out a hand and wiped some stray hair off Sam's face.

'When? You mean this mess?' Hotch gave a small nod. 'I took a ride and the guy wanted more than I was offering. He got pissed and smacked me around. I'll be fine, but I think he's done something to my jaw. My teeth don't feel aligned quite right and it hurts like a fucking very hurty thing. Can I go home now?'

'You were selling your body?' Nasty images of Sam plying his trade shot through Hotch's mind.

'I need the cash for stuff.' One of Sam's hands automatically went to the marks on his arm where he started to rub at them.

'There are better and more reliable ways of getting money. Legal ways. If you obtain your money in a respectable manner then you are much more likely to spend it in a more respectable way.'

'Get a job you mean? Here in Vegas? A job? You're fucking kidding me? Who would employ me anyway? You seen my medical report? I have to turn that in when I apply for a job. It says I'm a nut job. I'm not. Respectable people don't employ whores and kids who are alcohol and drug dependant. Why the fuck would they? I'd only be trouble. And don't even fucking start on the rehab nonsense cos it's not going to fucking well happen. I've this empty place inside my head and inside my body and I cant fill it. There's nothing there… It's like constantly looking for something… always thinking someone is going to tap you on the shoulder and give you back what you've lost, but it never fucking happens. But when someone does hint at it… all fucking hell breaks loose and it's like the end of the damned world just arrived again. I need to go talk to The Teevys and see if I can get an appointment to sort out my fucking jaw.' Sam stood slowly and tugged down on the hem of the red skirt he was wearing. 'My whoring kit.' Sam gestured at himself. 'Old blokes like boys who dress like this. They're all fucking perverts, but someone has to cater for them. All the time they're fucking me and getting me to blow them, they're leaving the real kids alone. I'm doing the world a service.' Sam licked his lips. 'Don't fucking judge me Hotch. You have not even the faintest clue about what's going on in my head. Not a fucking iota of an idea. You think I like this?' Hotch raised an eyebrow. 'Well yeah… so I do like to dress like this sometimes, but I'd sooner not have to spend the night with some farting fat old sod who wants to stuff his fingers in my holes cos he's too old to get a hard on – just so I can get the cash to get something to inject into my arm to take the fucking pain away.' He paused and took a step back from Hotch. 'I'm in fucking pain!' He howled.

Mrs Teevy gasped in horror when she saw the mess Sam was in. She rushed over to him and planted lady kisses on the top of his head. 'My god Abe…Sam… my god. I thought you were dead!'

'I am.' Sam muttered back. 'Now can I have a shower?'

'I'll call the doctor. What happened to your jaw?'

'I think it might be broken again.' Sam rubbed at the side of his face. 'Mother, Father, I know you think I'm Abraham, but I'm not. I'm Sam and I'm going to go have a shower and then I'm going with these guys here. I don't belong here. I don't want to be here. I hate me and I hate this place and I hate everything and most of all I hate Floyd for not coming to get me sooner.' He spun on Hotch now. 'Why's he abandoned me? One blow job and the end of the world happens. I don't understand what I did that was so wrong.' He threw himself dramatically out of the room with a cry of… 'Why am I so unlovable?'

Mrs Teevy was in tears and sitting on the couch. Mr Teevy stood with a cigarette burning down between his fingers. 'What now?' He asked. 'Abe is home. I suppose you're not looking for a missing person now. I'll show you the way out.'

Hotch stood his ground though. 'I will need to talk to Sam down town. There are a lot of questions which need answers to. Can you tell me though, have you ever met Sam's birth family?'

Mrs Teevy looked up and shook her head. 'He was abandoned in a bin. Can you believe that someone would do that to a child? He was thrown away like rubbish, surrounded by used sanitary towels and old bits of paper and dirty underwear. The circumstances were horrific. He was found by a child who used the rest rooms and heard him crying. Terrible. I've never told him that. He doesn't need to know that he was so unwanted that he was left for dead.'

'No… indeed.' Hotch agreed. 'He doesn't need to know. How did he come by the name Sam Trent?'

'Samantha was the name of the child who found him. It was the restrooms on at the back of a garage in a village called Trent. I never thought it was right to call a boy child after a girl and a public restroom! Disgusting. He needs his jaw seen to. He has had much surgery to try to get his face back how it should be. It's delicate. He should be more careful.' She finished her sentence on a sob.

o-o-o

Sam had his shower.

Floyd had his too.

Sam then visited the hospital emergency room to have his jaw looked at. Hotch sat with him and waited.

Hospital staff wanted to see more than Sam's face though. Sam was wearing black jeans which looked as though they were a couple of sizes too big and a red shirt he'd tied up in the front. He pulled off the shirt and let the nurse look at the boot imprints on his back and the red and black angry marks on his front and stomach. He let the woman inspect his neck… Hotch recognised the signs of someone who had had hands tight around their neck and he suspected that the nurse did too, but Sam just kept on insisting that he fell down stairs. He wasn't about to file a report. There wasn't much they could do. He was though sedated and wheeled into another room where men with stainless steel medical instruments strapped things to Sam's face and jaw and cranked it back into place. He did end up though with something which made him cry.

They were honest tears. Nothing fake.

He had a brace wired to his jaw and teeth. It encircled his head and was there to keep everything in place. He did have a broken jaw and because it had been broken multiple times in the past they considered this the best option to keep everything in the right place until it was healed.

'But I look like a freak!' Sam howled in despair.

'You will look worse if your jaw repairs incorrectly and you end up with your face twisted or paralysed on one side. This is for your future good looks young man. It will help stop the headaches too. It must have been slipping off line for a while.' The doctor paused. 'How is the eye?'

'Might as well not have it.' Sam mumbled. 'I cant see out of it and my vision is crap with the other one, so please tell me I'm going to have to wear glasses and really make my sodding day.'

He needed glasses. They set him up for an appointment and let him go with Hotch to answer more questions. The contraption around Sam's lower jaw made Sam want to curl up and die (again) and the thought of having to wear glasses seemed to be the last straw. Sam rode in the car next to Hotch and stared silently out of the window. They drove by some street walkers with too much make up and clothes slightly too small for them. 'I'll never work again.' Sam moaned.

'You want to end up like them?' Hotch glanced at the women… 'Well a male form of them?'

'I'll never have any job again doing anything. I'll never get through airport security again either with half a head and face full of metal. It's a fucking disaster. What's going to happen to me Hotch? Where's Floyd? Where's Spencer? Why has all this shit happened? Did you know that my teeth have been screwed back into my jaw, which isn't actually my jaw… it's mostly metal plates… but they screwed my teeth back in.' A sob. 'My face was so mashed that they had to view photographs to make it right again. Under my hairline at the sides you can see all the scars. I had to have skin grafts. They took skin off my back. Abraham died didn't he? He was blasted out of existence so I could be here.'

Hotch didn't answer. He didn't have the answers. He had theories, but the more he thought about them the more those theories became fantasy. 'Rossi is going to talk to your… to Flanders. There's a lot that needs to be sorted. Your DNA needs to be checked. Finger prints… We have to be one hundred percent sure that you are who you appear to be.'

'Why? Why cant I just be?'

'Because you died.' Hotch breathed out the words.

'I know. I remember it. Someone smashed my face in with a bit of wood I think? Fuck! That hurt! I felt it… I felt my fingers breaking and I felt my toes smashing on something. I was screaming and screaming and so was Floyd… I had my eyes shut. I've never been in so much pain in my life. Except maybe for when I became Abraham or Abe became me. What way round do you think it is?' Sam tugged on the thing on his face. 'You know metal doesn't grow like bone does, so I'm going to have to keep having stuff done to my face and head until I've stopped growing. They're going to have to keep breaking my jaw to allow for growth. I think I'm not going to deal with that all that well. And it's the fault of the person who was wielding that bit of fucking wood and staving my face in in the first place.'

'And do you know who that was?'

Sam shook his head. Eyes closed remember? You don't want eyes open when that's being done to your face, or at least if I was looking I don't remember. I just know that Floyd was screaming for someone to stop, but I don't know why he didn't stop. I've got so many gaps in my memory. I should know who did it shouldn't I?'

'Trauma can blot out horrific incidences.' Hotch explained. 'What we need to do firstly is to confirm that you are who you say you are. Not that I'm doubting but the courts will.'

o-o-o

It was confirmed. Sam was Sam.

Sam was happy to be Sam again but now they didn't know what to do with him.

'You should, for now at least, go back to the Teevys.' Sam was told.

'No fucking way!' Sam responded. 'I'm not fucking Abraham Teevy!' But strangely enough he was. He was both people and now they had a problem with what to do with Floyd.

Mr Teevy thought that Sam needed time away. He needed proper help that they couldn't give him. He seemed to think he was who he wasn't and the family didn't know how to deal with this. Sam had a brain wave though.

'If you cant get hold of Floyd, why cant I stay with Spencer?'

The room fell into silence.

'You know where Spencer is?' There were some slow nods. 'Then can I see him? If I cant see Floyd can I see Spencer? We're like this…' Sam demonstrated closeness with crossed fingers. 'He's like the big brother I never had. I look up to Spencer and I admire him and stuff and he knows how to treat me. Oh he knows very well how to treat me. Spencer is a charm with me. Please… please… please… I'll get on my knees. Let me go to Spencer and I'll never bother you again. He's been through the wringer too; he'll know that I'm in pain. He'll understand the problem with drugs and shit. Can I? I'll be good! I'll behave. He'll protect me from the streets. At least let me until you can find Floyd. It's not so much to ask is it? Please? Pretty please? At least ask him? You can ask him cant you?' His irritating whine suddenly changed. 'And I'll know if you lie to me.' He finished with what sounded like a cold hard threat. He tugged again at the brace holding his face in place and blinked innocently.

o-o-o

It was Rossi who went to visit Floyd and give him some news. Floyd initially refused to see him. He didn't want contact with the outside world now. He was settled and had a place. A place usually up against the shower wall, but that was beside the point. There seemed to be important news Rossi needed to talk to him about so after an hour of arguing Floyd accepted it and walked down the passage way to the visitors' room. This wasn't the big room with the plastic tables and chairs where he'd met with Spencer in the past, this was an interview room. Rossi was sitting at the table in the centre of the room with a file in front of him. He didn't greet Floyd verbally but gave him a curt nod which was returned. Floyd flopped down in the chair and sighed.

'Can only think of one reason you've come to see me, old man. You have a date for me? Finally a decision has been made? You cant keep me locked here forever with no sentence for me to work off.' Floyd leaned on the table. 'That's not why you're here is it?' He tapped the file. 'What's in there Dave? All the birthday and Christmas cards I've missed out on? Letters from my loved ones?'

Dave didn't open the file but passed over a pack of cigarettes. 'Maybe for later.' Rossi told Floyd.

'In return for what exactly?'

'You just sitting there and listening and then maybe trying to explain things which don't make a whole lot of sense to this _old man_.'

Floyd tapped the pack of smokes with his fingers and frowned at Rossi. 'I'm listening. This better be good though.'

'We've located Sam.'

Floyd stood up. 'Sam? You found him? Alive? You have him? I can leave? What the hell! Did Spence find him? Is he OK?'

'Sit.' Rossi commanded and oddly enough Floyd did as he was asked. 'He had been living under a different name which was why, apparently, we couldn't locate him. Abraham Teevy. He has problems Floyd. We have bigger ones though I think. Evidence put you here. You admitted to killing Sam. Now if Sam is actually still alive and as well as could be expected who did you kill?'

The look of delight slipped from Floyd's face. 'You know full fucking well that I didn't kill any motherfucking one. You _know_ that. If the DNA for the blood and crap came back as Sam, and Sam is still alive then I didn't kill him. Spencer… Spencer… Spencer didn't see me kill anyone.'

'There was a body.' Rossi reminded Floyd.

'But is there _still_ a body?' Floyd asked. 'I think you need to check up on that, because I _think_ you're going to find that you're very wrong on that count. Actually I think you're going to find that you've had an innocent man locked away for two years for a crime which was never committed, and buddy I know that you cant be put in the slammer because someone had a nightmare. That's all this has been. Nightmares and fabrications of a deluded mind. You best sort this shit out because I've had it up to here.' Floyd indicated where with his hand. 'And I'm not about to spend another damned year in this fucking shit of a place if I don't have to.' This time he leaned over the table so he could whisper to Rossi. 'Are you aware of the shit I could stir up for you boys? You had me locked away for a crime which was never committed and you have the fucking proof of it sitting there in front of you. Sam's alive. Now make arrangements for me to be released or you're going to wish you'd never been born. Do you understand what I'm saying to you Rossi? I've put up with this crap just so that this very moment would arrive. I've been a good boy here. No complaints from anyone. What say you? Going to sort this shit or am I going to have to start writing letters to people to let them know you framed me?'

Rossi shook his head. 'We need to figure out whose body that was.'

Floyd smirked. 'Go ahead… _try_… I dare you. Don't take too long old man. You have a week and I want out of this place. One day longer and my pen meets paper and envelope. Good luck.' Floyd stood up. 'And you look after that boy. You know the one I mean. That one I never killed. Thank you for coming to see me. It's been a couple of years. You've not aged well. Go home and rest old man. But don't forget what I told you.'

'Sit down and calm down.' Rossi told Floyd, but this time he wasn't so keen to do as he'd been told.

'For what reason? You're here to tell me that the person I murdered is alive and well…'

'The case is going to be opened again. Evidence will be scrutinised once more. It might take more than a week. You need to remain calm and know that we are attempting to sort this out for you.'

'Not for me. For you. You _want_ me here. You probably threw a party when I was locked in here and went willingly. Does not my co-operation through your enquiries into the original case puzzle you? Do you ever wonder why I allowed this game to carry on for so long?'

'A month.' Rossi told Floyd.

'No… two weeks.'

'I'm not bartering with you Flanders. A month.'

'Two weeks or I go to the press.'

'Three.'

'Done. Three it is. One day over and you're going to wish things you never thought you could.'

Rossi nodded. 'I'll leave you with this. All the information we have on the case so far. Sam's medical information in an abridged form is also there. I don't want you coming out of this thinking everything is rosy and good because it's not. Whatever happens someone has lost a child. Either you or the Teevy family.'

'Like I give a flying fuck about the fucking Teevy family.'

Floyd walked to the door with the file in his hands and hammered twice. He didn't say goodbye to Rossi and Rossi didn't say goodbye either. They left it as it stood. Now Rossi had three weeks in which to sort the mess out.

He sat on his bunk in the cell looking down at his feet. All the time he'd been here he'd shared half a dozen words with his cell mate. Not because he disliked the man, but simply because he had nothing to talk to the man about. Today though… on a day which Floyd was feeling like he might just fall into a bit of a sulk the guy flounced in, threw an envelope of the table and flopped down on the bunk next to Floyd.

'Bad day huh?' Floyd muttered at the floor.

'The bitch dumped me.' He sighed. 'She promised she'd stick with me, then a year after I'm sent down she has a kid. Tries to persuade me that it's mine and like a damned fool I tell her that it don't matter whose it is, I love her. What sort of a fool am I?'

'Doesn't.' Floyd replied.

'What? What does that mean?'

'It _doenst_ matter… not it don't matter.' Floyd turned to look at the young man. 'And what sort of a fool are you? Likely one not dissimilar to me. Love's a strange old bastard. Makes you do the most insane things. Forget the bitch. Plenty more out there.'

'Not another like her though.' He pulled out a slightly creased photo of a brown haired young woman. 'A beauty isn't she?'

Floyd shrugged. 'Not my type mate. Here…' He shook the cigarette packet at him. 'Take a couple.'

'How can she not be your type? Look at her.' He took a couple of smokes and waved the photo under Floyd's nose.

'Yeah, yeah… pretty face and nice hair, but I like boys not girls. I'm not really the right one to give an opinion on the fairer sex.'

'You're a fag? You? But you've never come on to me. Not once.'

'Just because I like cock doesn't mean I don't have preferences. You're safe… you're not my type.'

'I've heard rumours that you…'

'Well they're likely not rumours.' Floyd smirked. 'If I'm accused of doing something bad, then likely I must have. Reason I'm here isn't it? Accused of a fucking crime that they have sodding proof never bloody well happened. The guy I'm meant to have killed is alive and well. How's that for a surprise huh?'

The young man slid off the bunk and placed his photo on the table. 'They say you battered some kid to death.'

'Yeah? Is that what they say? Then it must be true. A slayer of kids. Watch this space mate. Watch… before you know what's happened I'll be gone.' Floyd stood and walked over to the table and placed the cigarette carton down. 'Just help yourself.' He the walked from the open cell down to see if anyone was up to a game of pool. The letter from his cell mate's girlfriend was tucked away in his pocket.


	33. Chapter 33

33

Now that Floyd had been approached it was Spencer they needed to talk to. Sam had been given two options; go home to the Teevys or go into care for a while. He was told that due to his delicate medical state that he couldn't be left on the streets and Spencer was not available. He went back to the Teevy family. He let them know that he was only there until his face was better and he could go out giving head again. They ignored his crass words and placed the TV remote control in his hand. They told him to relax. Things would work out for the best. They just had to work through this difficult time now and sort their lives out again. Mr Teevy even told Sam that there was a chance that he could work back at the casino office, sorting stuff… he wasn't very particular about what… earn a wage… have money in your pocket. Sam said he'd let them know.

In the meantime Spencer was called upon and questions were asked.

'We've located Sam.' Hotch told him. Spencer's eyes went wide for a second and then narrowed. 'He's alive.' Again Spencer's eyes went wide.

'Alive.' He repeated. 'I see.'

'When this case was closed you were given the remains to deal with.' Spencer nodded. 'What happened to them Spencer?'

Those wide eyes again. 'I… I dealt with them in a way I thought Floyd would appreciate. He asked me to bury him far and deep. It was all very legal.'

'And the lab?'

Spencer now looked puzzled. 'The lab? I don't know where this is going.'

'They store samples.' Spencer nodded. 'They've become corrupted. As has all the computer stored information on the case. As far as forensics is concerned this case never existed.'

Spencer raised both of his eyebrows. 'That doesn't make sense, but does this mean that Floyd will be released?'

'Who killed Sam?' Hotch asked one more time. Spencer shook his head slowly. 'Then who _did_ you kill, Spencer?' Again a slow shake of the head.

Hotch slapped the file on the table. 'Sam is asking to see you. Floyd will be released as soon as papers are sorted.' Spencer swallowed nervously. 'Is there a reason that you look as though you want to run and hide?' Hotch spoke without emotion. This whole business was beyond the impossible. It was messing with his ordered tidy mind.

'Why would I want to run? My boyfriend is going to be released and Sam is alive. That's win win isn't it?'

'I don't know, Spencer. You look like a deer caught in the headlights. Is there something, anything, you're not telling me?'

Spencer let out a long sigh. He fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and then looked up at Hotch. 'Floyd cut communication with me a year ago. I don't know why, but I have a feeling that whatever relationship had been brewing there is over. He left for two years before and we'd only been back getting to know each other again for a couple of months and he's gone again. Prison changes people. Yes I'm concerned. I have a right to be concerned. I love him. Yes I know you don't understand that, but it's really not up to you to understand. So… yes I have worries over what will be released from that prison. As for Sam? Well we never got on. I don't know why he'd be requesting to see me. I have no real urge to see _him_. I would really like some time alone to get used to the idea that Floyd will be coming home.' Spencer shrugged. 'Assuming he will come back to me and I don't know that he will, but…'

'Then leave it. Let him go for goodness sake!' Hotch seemed to be almost glowing red.

'No. You just don't understand do you Hotch. I love him.' Spencer then leaned closer to Hotch. 'And I know you used to watch me in the showers. I know you watched me dry myself. I know… I'm not the total moron you seemed to think I was. I knew all along what was going on and thus I was fully aware that if I wanted comfort I could have come to you. I know you would have helped, but there was one thing stopping me… I love Floyd. And Floyd requested that I kept away from you. That, Aaron, is love. What else could it be?'

Stupidity?

Being a kicked dog?

Need?

Lust?

Any of those, but Hotch doubted it was anything even close to love. How could it be?

Spencer returned to his apartment and waited. He wasn't sure exactly what it was he was waiting for. It would take a while for the paper work to be sorted out and Floyd released and then he had a sinking feeling that Floyd was going to go straight to Sam. The idea drove him to eating ice cream and reading a graphic novel.

Then the anger set in.

The resentment.

He thought he'd been protecting Floyd from something demonic. Actually he _had_ been. That demonic thing just happened to be called Sam. Surely Floyd could understand that. The time he spent kneeling in front of the toilet bowl used up some time that evening. The long hot shower used up more time. The standing in front of the mirror picking and pinching at his arms used up even more time, but it was going to be days if not weeks before Floyd would be out of that place. Spencer knew that the couldn't spend that time in panic. He decided to write Floyd a letter.

_Hey,_

_I heard the good news. Looking forward to seeing you again soon. I've missed you. Spence. Xx_

He slipped it in an envelope and addressed it to the prison and then spent the remainder of the evening staring at the way the drapes hung at the window. In the morning he cleared up the little mess he'd made and walked to the nearest post box to send off the letter. He stood there in his cords and a baggy long sleeved shirt for maybe five minutes before he released the letter into the slot. Done. He'd made contact.

He was begging for contact.

Crawling on his belly.

Pleading.

Though he'd not actually _said_ that in the note, it was pretty clear to Spencer that by making first contact in that way that that was how it would come across to Floyd.

Spencer slipped his fingers into the slot to see if the letter was stuck there, but of course it wasn't. He thought of waiting for the mail man to arrive and empty the thing, but he knew that asking for his letter back wouldn't work. He considered committing a crime and setting fire to the box, but he couldn't do that. Important letters to loved ones could be in there. He sighed and ran a finger over the box and then walked away.

Shouldn't have made first contact.

Shouldn't have sounded like a child begging for his candy. Even if that's how Spencer was feeling.

He sat on the front steps of his apartment block for a while with his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there but it was long enough for Mrs Parsons to approach him and ask if he was all right.

'You don't look well.' She advised the white faced Spencer.

'Bit of a stomach upset.' Spencer told her. He then told her that he needed to go to bed, stood up and walked down the street away from his apartment. Mrs Parsons stood and watched the lanky man walk away and then shrugged and went into the cool of the hallway.

o-o-o

Floyd stood leaning over the pool table ready to take a shot when someone prodded him in the small of the back. His instincts were to turn and shove his cue down the throat of the person who had dared touch him, but he didn't. He placed the cue down on the table, told the other player to 'hang on a tick.' And then turned to see who wanted him. It was his cell mate.

Had you not been locked up in this place for as long as some of these guys had you might not have noticed the sudden change in atmosphere. People carried on talking, but maybe quieter – card games carried on, but the slapping down of the cards was done with less gusto, six men who, so it had seemed, to be standing back looking at their fingernails were suddenly there dragging Floyd's cell mate back out of the way.

'You stole my fucking letter you son of a bitch!' The man howled at Floyd… who had… he couldn't deny that could he?

It looked as though this man who had just found out that the love of his life was no longer going to be waiting for him when he came out, was going to get his face pulverised by the six chaps who were pulling him away towards a corner.

'Stop!'

It was Floyd's voice, but the words didn't come out of his mouth, they came out of his mind and shot straight into the heads of everyone in the room. The immediate silence was as though someone had turned down the volume… not just turned it down, but muted it. All that could be heard was a gentle wheezing of some heavy smokers and a hiss from between Floyd's teeth. The guards stood with hands uselessly at their sides. The six men let go of their victim.

'It's OK. I took the letter. Didn't think it was something you should be brooding over.' Floyd slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the letter which he'd quickly read earlier. He held the letter out but turned his head to look at the room full of people behind him standing doing nothing. Floyd wondered if they were even breathing. 'Carry on as you were.' Floyd sighed out and slowly people began to move back to the cards and pick up pool cues and talk in slightly stilted ways to each other. 'Take the damned letter. Let him go boys. He's not going to hurt me.' Floyd walked closely up to his cell mate. He stuffed the letter into the man's pocket and wrapped his arms around his neck so that his fingers were laced at the back of the young man's neck. Floyd jerked him forward and pushed a hip hard against the front of the man's orange coveralls. 'Now… You don't touch me, not ever…' Floyd spoke directly into his ear. '… You don't talk to me unless I say you can. You don't even fucking look at me. You understand mate? Next time I wont stay my hand.' He dug his hip in harder. 'And next time I'll let my dogs have you. Now leave. I have a game to play and a bet of my jello on it. I like jello. I don't want to lose.' Floyd stepped back and winked at his cell mate; he then turned back around and picked up the pool cue. 'Now where were we?' He smiled at the man standing the other side of the table who appeared to be shaking. 'My shot wasn't it?' Floyd got a very slow nod as a reply.

As the room slipped back into normality again there seemed to be a strong stench of urine and faeces. Fear has a funny way of turning the bravest of murderers into a pissing drooling quaking idiot. He'd held back for two years and was getting out soon. It was time to show these tossers the real reason they protected him. It was nothing to do with how great his arse was. It was all to do with that fact that he'd kill every last one of them if they dared step out of line. 'Jelly baby?' He handed out a small pack of jellied candies to the other player who just shook his head. 'You've pissed yourself. You wanna go sort your stinking hide out whilst I stand here and decide what angle to take on this?'

The day ended quietly.

The cell mate didn't bring up the subject of the letter again and Floyd didn't announce that he was going to go to the address at the top of the letter and kill her in a most delicious way. He kept that information to himself. Floyd had missed his midnight snacks and nibbles on things which other people would frown upon. He was planning a feast. He sat on his bunk with his back to the wall and imagined sitting there with the bits of this woman spread around him. He couldn't take Spencer to the party, but maybe Sam? He could give him some skinning lessons. As the lights dimmed and then went out for the night, Floyd lay back and slid his hands down the front of this lovely orange kit and took a hold of his aching self and with visions of a blood smeared Sam eating the bitch Floyd comforted himself.

o-o-o

Sam hurled the TV remote onto the floor when his _Father_ finally snapped.

'Stop switching the channel!'

'I could go to the den but you've banned me.'

The man acting as his father let out a long sigh. This was going to be hard work. Harder than he'd thought. 'I've not banned you as such.'

'Then let me go down there.' Sam sulked.

'You have a very sensitive and expensive bit of medical equipment holding your jaw in place. You are on a cocktail of medication.'

Sam nodded. 'I know. It's my fucking face this thing is screwed on to.'

'And I know if I allow you to go to the den you will poke around in the drinks cabinet or sneak out the back.'

Which was exactly what Sam had planned. 'Fuck you.' He said. 'Can I go to my room?'

'You can find a movie to watch and sit there.'

'You're not my real parent! You cant tell me what to do! I fucking hate you! Why are you such a sodding bully? You cant make me stay here.'

Mr Teevy looked at Sam with tired eyes. 'The medical insurance I have paid to make sure that you get the best medical help there is possible is only available to you because of that simple fact; I have paid for it. Now if you don't want that, then I'll drive you myself to the hospital tomorrow and you can have that thing removed. It will save me money. It will make you feel you've gotten your own way and might even put a smile on your face but remember what he said to you. If you don't keep that thing on there until the bones are completely healed and the jaw has some strength you're at risk of deformity and paralysis. Up to you.'

'What does it matter what I look like when I'm not allowed out to do anything anyway. I'm locked away under your fucking supervision having to feel grateful for something bolted to my face and welded into place. I cant take it off if I wanted to. I've tried. Cant be done. So I'm hidden away from humanity because you're such a fucking bastard. I want to go back to college and mess with my friends, play football, go horse-riding, swimming, ice skating and shit. I want to get a motor bike and learn how to drive, but no! no no no fucking NO! You're going to keep me locked up like a damned freak. What you getting money from the locals to look at me? Poor Abraham who lost his face and then his mind… a penny a look… two bucks a fuck… that's what you want. Fucking shit! I'll report you to social services. I'll have you locked away, you mother fucking pedo. I know your sort. I've had your sort put their fucking filthy hands all over me. Don't think I cant smell it on you _Father_.' Sam stood up as Teevy's eyes widened in what looked to be horror but might have been disgust. 'I can smell it on you!' Sam flicked open the buckle on his belt. 'Come on daddy… fuck me! Do it now you dirty bastard and I wont even charge you. I know you want to!' Jeans were pushed down to below Sam's hips. 'Why don't you want to love me daddy? What's it about me that's so hard to love? Why cant you love me like you love my sisters? Oh! Is it this shit on my face? Is it because you think you'll not be good enough for me? I can…' The slap around Sam's face sent him sprawling onto the couch with an 'UMPH' sound.

'Enough. I've heard enough. Now you will sit there in silence and consider what you've just said to me. I think you need your medications. Move from that spot and so god help me I'll take you to the spare room and belt your backside so hard you'll think it's Christmas.'

'I fucking hate you!' Sam screamed back. 'You have no right to slap me! I'm going to fucking report you!'

Mr Teevy didn't look moved. 'Shut the hell up Abraham or Sam or whoever the hell you are and do your pants up before they fall down and you look an even bigger fool.'

'Fuck you!' Sam howled back… a slightly muffled howl… more of a cushion muffled whine.

o-o-o

Spencer drank at a local bar. He puked in the alley way and then walked home wishing he had mints and some pain killers.

There was small expectation that someone would be waiting for him, but there wasn't. He wasn't even sure who it was he'd wanted to have seen there. The letter will get to Floyd maybe tomorrow or the day after. Floyd was still locked away. He hadn't secretly been expecting Floyd. He very much doubted that Sam would want to visit either, so in reality it must have been Hotch he was hoping for.

He let himself into the apartment and cleaned his teeth.

He made coffee.

He cleaned his teeth.

He had a shower.

Drank coffee.

Cleaned his teeth until his gums bled.

Checked that the phone was working… which is was. Checked his messages and had nothing. He paced his small apartment and eventually picked up the phone and made a call.

'I need to see you.'

'Are you drunk?' Hotch answered.

'I've had a drink, but I'm not drunk. I _need_ to see you.'

'Spencer….'

'Aaron, please.'

'This isn't a good idea.'

'But whilst you're in Vegas? You _are_ still in Vegas aren't you?'

Hotch sighed. 'Why now?'

'Because before wasn't the right time.'

Spencer could hear that Hotch was pacing. 'Very well…' He gave the address of the hotel he was staying in. '… I'll be waiting.' The phone clicked in Spencer's ear as Hotch cut the connection.

It was stupid. Spencer knew it was stupid. He knew that doing something like this now was the most insane thing possible, but something niggling in the back of his head was pushing him forward. Encouraging him. Telling him it was OK… of course it was OK… why wouldn't it be OK… do it. It was a sly and slightly familiar sensation. As though something comfortable had slipped into his brain when he was cleaning his teeth and had wrapped it self around his mind and was where it always should have been… There was something else familiar about it too. Almost like a waft of garlic when you walk by an Italian restaurant. Something out of place, but very much in the right place at the same time. Something you know is going to be delicious just by that one little familiar waft. You can conjure up a thousand images of a thousand dishes which might have that smell to it… each one makes your mouth water.

That's what Spencer was feeling… a soothing, wiping, massaging, waft of something drifting through his head… and that wafting was telling him to go and throw himself at Hotch and take all on offer.

He didn't have time for another shower, but he used the mouth wash and flossed quickly. He pulled off his watch and lay it on the cabinet next to his bed. He changed his socks and underwear and then was out of his apartment so fast his feet hardly touched the ground. He didn't have time to think about what the _hell_ he thought he was doing or how he was going to explain this to Floyd… and oh yes… Floyd would know, but that didn't occur to Spencer. At least not yet.

It did occur to Sam though as he sat staring at the TV screen and pretending he was watching the movie and at the same time wafting over fantastical ideas into Spencer's mind.

Sam had heard Floyd shout 'Stop.'

If that hadn't happened, if Floyd hadn't opened right up and screamed with all the force he could muster then maybe Sam wouldn't have had this brilliant idea. He couldn't get his hands on Spencer yet, but by holy hell he could slip ideas into that head of Spencer's. And honestly… that was _way_ easy. Too easy.

Spencer probably would have done it anyway.

Just a little push was all it took.

o-o-o

Spencer tapped lightly on the hotel room door. He wanted the batter it down and claw and kick at it, but he just tapped lightly.

Hotch was dressed casually in blue jeans and a white Tshirt. 'Come in.' He spoke quietly. Spencer was glad of the peace and quiet. Any sudden noises and he thought the comfort wrapped around his brain would come unravelled and his brain would explode. Spencer walked in without saying anything. He couldn't talk. He would have started screaming if he'd talked, as Hotch's pheromones invaded his senses.

'Please.' He finally managed to mutter.

'You need to talk?' Hotch looked at Spencer with what Reid thought was unveiled lust.

Spencer just shook his head slowly. He didn't want to talk. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He ran his hands over the front of his shirt and looked down at his feet.

'Why now?' Hotch walked over to Spencer and placed one hand on his arm.

'Hotch…' He wanted to say more but it felt as though his throat was closing up. Words didn't want to come out. A voice though… not so much a voice, but more of a nag, nag, nagging… _Stop playing… get on with it. It's your last chance._

Who took advantage of whom? Spencer thought he was taking advantage of Hotch. Hotch thought it was the other way around. Sam knew it was neither of them. Sam sat and stared at the flickering TV screen with his hands on his lap trying to conceal the excitement he was feeling and trying not to groan and moan too much. In the end he excused himself and went to the bathroom and sorted out his own enjoyment and comfort in private, with his eyes firmly closed and images of Spencer being thoroughly screwed physically by Hotch and emotionally by him.

Floyd lay on his bunk with his eyes open wide staring at the ceiling planning more than one death. He had a whole list of names on his shit list now. Sam, though wasn't one of them.

There was nothing gentle or loving about what Aaron and Spencer did. It was rough and spiteful. It was painful and noisy… Spencer whispered words into the pillow and Hotch moaned words into the sweat running off Spencer's back. They lay exhausted, sticky, smelling of lust, greed, and maybe a bit of guilt.

And as quickly as Spencer's need to be had by Hotch had formed - it was gone.

Spencer lay with Hotch sprawled over him, pressing him down into the mattress. He breathed heavy and cried silently. He'd done the one thing which Floyd had told him never to do. He'd gone further than not accepting a hug of reassurance from Hotch. He'd done something far worse and as Reid lay there feeling Hotch's sweat drip onto his back and legs he considered calmly that his life was over. He tried to wriggle out from under Aaron and got light kisses on the back of his neck.

He had to get out though.

Urgently.

He was going to throw up… violently. 'I need the bathroom.' Spencer sighed. He couldn't talk too loud. He would die if he spoke too loud. Hotch moved away and lay on the bed next to Spencer. He had his eyes closed.

Was he regretting this rutting session too? It certainly wasn't love. It was a built up need which had been living inside of both of them for far too long. Spencer managed to snag up a bit of bedding and wrapped it quickly around his waist as he rushed to the small hotel bathroom. He kicked the door closed behind him, but it didn't block out the sounds of him vomiting down the pristine toilet.

Hotch slipped quickly into his underwear and sat on the side of the bed listening to the man he'd just had sex with throwing up. It couldn't have been that bad could it? Hotch wanted to go into the bathroom and comfort the obviously distressed Spencer. He stood and took a few steps towards the white door and then sat on the end of the bed.

All this time he'd needed Spencer and finally he'd had what he wanted and not been disappointed either! Finally… final. It was the beginning and the end. Floyd would come rattling out from behind his bars and demand his boy back again. He'd claim him the way he always did.

When Spencer came out of the bathroom again, looking pale and exhausted, Hotch gave him a small smile.

'Come back with me.' He said. 'You don't have to stay here waiting for him. Come back. I'll…'

Spencer slowly shook his head. 'You know I cant. It's not possible.'

'I'll protect you.' Hotch insisted. 'A safe house.'

Again Spencer shook his head. 'You think a safe house will keep him away?'

Hotch rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips. 'It's better than staying here and waiting for him. I can give you so much Spencer.'

Once more the head shake. 'No. I love him.'

An exasperated moan from Aaron. 'Then why here? What was this all about?'

A shrug. 'I should go.' But he glanced back at the bathroom. 'Do you mind if I have a shower first?'

'Do you mind if I join you?'

'Not at all.'

Spencer had thought he would have been the one begging, but as it happened it was Aaron who was virtually on his knees begging Spencer to stay with him. Offering to protect him. To keep him safe. To love him. To be there for him.

But it really wasn't enough.

For every bit of protection Hotch could give, Floyd would just as easily remove. For every bit of love Hotch might show, Floyd would show more. It might have been a distorted view but that's how he felt… even as he mirrored Floyd's shower activities and pressed his hands against the wall and felt the soap washing over him… He closed his eyes tightly and tried to imagine that was Floyd behind him. The fact that it was so easy to do just cemented the idea that it was Floyd he needed. Not Hotch. Not this man who would offer him everything, but the man who would never promise a damned thing unless it suited his long term goals.

Reid had hoped to spend the night and to awaken with arms tightly around him, but he didn't. Spencer went home alone and slept alone in his bed in his apartment and wrapped his own arms around himself. When he awoke in the morning he thought it had all been a dream. At least until he moved and felt the familiar aches and pains and sore places.

'Oh.' He muttered to himself as he limped to the bathroom and started to clean his teeth. 'What have I done?'

o-o-o

What he'd done was broken trust. It didn't matter to Floyd that he was being hammered regularly by half the prison inmates and some of the staff. That whole matter was irrelevant. What mattered was that Spencer had gone somewhere else. Not just anywhere, but to the one person… one of the ones… that Floyd objected to the most. Now if it had been Morgan, Spencer had gone to he would have broken out of prison and gone and killed the bastard that day, but it was Hotchner.

'Fucking Hotchner.' Floyd muttered over his breakfast.

It wasn't some street whore, Spencer had picked up. It wasn't even Sam! It was bloody Hotchner! Someone who offered comfort and safety and someone who wanted and watched and had that _smell_ about him. Only a few more days and Floyd would have been out, but Spencer couldn't wait. Couldn't keep his dick in his pants for a few more days.

'Fuck!'

Floyd pushed his breakfast plate over towards the chap sitting next to him.

'Have it.' Floyd snarled at him.

The man took it. He dared not! Floyd started his cleaning duties early. He had a lot of hate and blood curdling violence to work out of his system.

He got his letter that afternoon.

He read it.

He inhaled the scent of the paper and he considered it for a long time as he sat on the latrine floor. The words seemed honest enough. There was no sense of betrayal in them. Normally he would have accepted them as the words of a lover who was welcoming his love home, but something had tainted it. Floyd for now put it back in his pocket. The temptation to throw it down the bog was there, but he had other plans.

Once back in his cell so he could prepare for his evening meal he wrote on the envelope… _Return to Sender_ and under the words on the actual letter he was going to write a string of curses, but he changed his mind and slipped the letter back in his pocket.

Floyd was angry. He was actually beyond angry. He walked with his hands in fists at his side. He looked at everyone as though they were ants he was ready and willing to stamp on. He could feel that letter burning in his pocket. Eating into him like a disease. Spencer had written a few words on a bit of paper to welcome him home and then gone and got himself fucked by Agent Aaron Hotchner. It made no damned sense. There could be only one reason Spencer would have done something like that and that would have been if Floyd, him self, had given Spencer the idea to do it… given him a prodding in the mind to get over there and be fucked by the _one_ man (apart from Morgan, but that was so far beyond the realms of possibility that it wasn't worth considering) he needed Spencer to keep away from.

He hadn't.

Therefore Spencer had known full well from beginning to end what he'd done.

And he was going to pay for it.

Slowly.

Over and over again.

The thought made Floyd breathe heavily and come out in a sweat.

o-o-o

Hotch called Spencer on the phone the next day. Reid didn't answer it. He was sitting on the bathroom floor with a towel wrapped hard around his arm and wondering why the guilt hadn't flowed out of his body along with the blood. He considered writing a letter. Telling Floyd what he'd done, but now in the bright light of the bathroom which smelt strongly of toothpaste, mouthwash, vomit and blood, Spencer knew that Floyd already knew what he'd done. The options now were to kill himself or let Floyd do it. Or rather – kill himself quickly or die over the course maybe of years in screaming agony. He knew there would be no forgiveness. Floyd would never let this go. Spencer heard the phone ringing and maybe once he would have jumped up and rushed to the phone to see who it was, but now it all seemed so hopeless that there was no point in anything.

'I do love you.' Spencer whispered at the bathroom wall.

He sat there nursing his arm waiting for a reply that never came. Of course it never came. Floyd didn't hear him. Floyd was battling his own rage by cheating at cards and winning a couple of smokes and a naked picture of Angelina Jolie. It was a picture which he handed over to his cell mate. A goodbye gift. Something to keep him hard when the lights were out and it was still a long old time before the morning. Floyd thought that was likely the worst part about this place… the long… dreadful long nights listening to people crying or rocking back and forth trying to get some comfort. If the whole of the two years had been day time it would have been much more interesting. More gambling… more workouts… more time in the showers. That was why Spencer didn't get a reply. No one was listening.

No one except Sam, who sat with a curl to his lip and a plan forming in his head. He was holding one of his _sisters'_ cell phones in his hand. It was pink. He'd made a call on it and then removed the sim card so no one would know who he had called. He melted the thing in a ash tray then threw the cell phone to one side. A quick visit now to The Office. A room on the ground floor which Sam was not allowed to go in, but still did. Frequently. When he needed extra funds as he did today. He used a small metal pin to click the lock open and used the same pin on the desk drawer (second one down). He pulled out a small strong box which had a combination lock. It wasn't Teevy's main stock of money, but there was always enough for Sam to sneak out a few fifty dollar bills and not be noticed. He took the money and locked the box again. The money he folded and slipped into his pocket and now he looked down at the gun laying there in the drawer. He'd seen it there before but had never picked it up or looked at it. Guns didn't interest Sam. If he was going to use a weapon he would choose a knife. He liked to feel the blood ooze down his arm. Guns were too impersonal. Today he picked it up though and looked closely at it. It was an old revolver. There was strong temptation to take it and go out back and shoot all the windows out, but then _Father_ would know he'd been in here and that was something he wanted to keep to himself for now. He put the gun back and placed the strong box back in and locked up again.

In the hallway there was a big fancy clock on the wall which looked like a sun. Sam hated it, but today he checked on the time and then left the house by the front door and walked down the driveway towards the big ranch style wooden gates. It was the weekend and weekends meant that the bulk of the people were out with the horses. Something Sam still wanted to join in with… really the only thing he wanted to do with this lot, but he couldn't. The doctor had been very strict about that. No Horseback Riding. Too dangerous. Even with something to protect the head. Sam usually kicked up a stink about it, but today was happy that he could go down to the gates and meet someone and not get question upon question fired at him.

Sun was shining.

A beautiful day. For a cactus. Sam though was too hot. Luckily he timed it well and didn't have to wait too long for a battered old van to pull up next to the gates. Sam climbed up the gate and sat so he was level with the driver.

'You got what I want?'

There was a nod from the driver, but nothing was produced. Sam pulled out the money and waved it at him.

The exchange was done in a flash. Sam slipped back down off the gate and the van drove off without another word being said. He wanted to kick himself for not attempting to bargain the man into giving it to him half price. A ton for a couple of shots seemed a lot to Sam. What the hell though, it wasn't his money.

He patted his pocket and with a smirk walked back to the house to get off his face.

Soon, very soon, Floyd would be coming for him. He wanted to celebrate.


	34. Chapter 34

34

Mr Teevy wasn't in the mood for celebration.

When he saw Sam slumped on the couch with the needle still in his arm he lost all control. He didn't much care if Sam was alive or dead, but no one… not even Mr Teevy did drugs in his house. In the office down town, yes… probably… often… but never in the house. His anger boiled over. They couldn't leave Sam for half an hour without him doing something stupid.

Sam woke up on his front with his feet and hands secured to bed posts. The pain was extraordinary and at first he thought he'd been kidnapped and raped by a bunch of buck toothed rednecks. But then he saw Teevy standing there. Raped by Teevy? Not possible.

And very unlikely.

And when he looked at Teevy and saw what was in his hands he realised that the pain was not from inside but more external. Teevy stood with a belt in his hand.

'What the fuck?' Sam mumbled as his head pounded and his buttocks felt like they were on fire.

'Where did you get the money for drugs?' The belt swung lazily at Teevy's side, but Sam thought that it could come back into action very quickly if he didn't come up with the right answers.

'I worked my arse for it.'

Not the right answer. Sam howled as that belt suddenly swooped down and cracked hard across his backside. 'Well it's going to be a while before you can do that again!' Teevy spat back. 'Where did you get the money?'

'I… I… I found it. Laying there… doing nothing so I took it.'

'Liar!' The belt made contact again and again Sam howled in pain.

'You cant do this to me! It's abuse. I'll report you!'

'One more chance. My arm is beginning to ache. Where did you get the damned money for heroin!'

'Fuck you and fuck everyone.' Sam had wanted to sound like he didn't care what happened, but it came out as a pathetic whimper.

'If you had the balls that your mouth makes it look like you had, you'd just come out and tell me. But Abraham… or Sam… you're a snivelling little thief and coward. We took you in as an unwanted baby. Something thrown in the trash. Your birth mother must have had some kind of revelation the day she squeezed you from between her legs. She must have known what you'd turn out to be. You should have been left there to die amongst the filth.' Teevy had never spoken to Sam like this before, but today was the end. He'd had enough. 'You were thrown out once and you're going to be thrown out again. I'll tend your wounds. I'll enjoy it… then I'm telling you to take your dirty self back to the pisshole you were originally thrown in and you can stay there. I've written you out of my will. I've disowned you. You're nothing.'

Sam opened his mouth to say something. Something rude, but different words came out. 'I was thrown away?'

Teevy smirked. It was a cold expression which made Sam's blood run cold. 'Along with dirty sanitary towels and bloody rubbish. Discarded with the trash that women discard from their own bodies.'

Again Sam opened his mouth. But this time he closed it again and hissed between his teeth. 'You're a liar. I was handed over at an adoption agency by someone who had no money to support me.' It was the story he had never actually been told, but the one he'd always wanted. At least the one Abraham had always wanted. 'I'm not Abraham.' Sam sniffed.

'No. At first that confused me. You're not Abraham. Abe was a lovely kid. He was a happy kid. Nothing short of a brain transplant could have turned Abraham into what you are. When you're gone… gone from my home and from the lives of my family, I will set up a memorial for that lovely boy who lost his life two years ago. I will mourn him. I will be able to grieve. I will set up a stone in the garden in his memory.'

'I…'

He stopped Sam talking by waggling the belt at him. 'I'll wash those wounds and untie you and then you will go into the family room and you will damned well apologise to Mrs Teevy. You will tell her that you're sorry. You will explain that you'll never do anything like that again and you will sit and watch a movie. You will give Mrs Teevy at least the illusion that she's not lost her son.'

Sam gave a small nod. It came just before the screams of agony as Teevy none too gently washed Sam's whipped and bleeding behind with warm salty water.

o-o-o

'I am very sorry for any pain or distress I have caused you, Mother.' Sam spoke. Tears were still running down his face from the pain of the salt water and belt. 'Father has explained things to me and I now realise that I have been behaving out of character and this has caused much distress amongst the family.' He hesitated and pulled at the back of his pyjama bottoms which were sticking to the ointment Father had wiped on his butt. 'I myself, have been under a lot of pressure and stress and I freely admit that I have been taking my own anger over what happened two years ago on the wrong people.'

Mrs Teevy didn't look convinced, but she still spoke kindly. 'Sit. The movie is about to start. French Noir.'

Sam didn't want to sit. He thought it would be a long time before he sat again willingly but a quick glance at Father told him that he would be sitting and he would be sitting with a smile on his face and he would be accepting of the comforting arm around his shoulders. Sam gritted his teeth and did as he was told. Only… and _only_ because he knew Floyd would come for him soon… and he would tell Floyd what these people had done to him and he would snack with Floyd on their juicy bits. He leaned slightly sideways to rest his head on Mother's shoulder. 'I'm sorry.' He moaned as the fabric of the blue PJ's rubbed on his tender parts.

o-o-o

Floyd said a muttered fair well and goodbye to his cell mate who muttered one in return. No love lost there.

He signed papers which needed to be signed. He put his own clothes on and was given back his slim silver cigarette lighter and then walked out of the cool almost comforting halls of the prison and down the steps to where someone was waiting for him with a nervous smile and a flash midnight blue open top car. The smile was returned and with a sigh Floyd walked quickly to the awaiting Spencer.

Reid expected to die right there where he stood in the shadow of the tall brutal looking prison, but it was arms which wrapped (lovingly?) around him and pulled him tight. It was a greedy mouth which licked and nibbled firstly at Spencer's neck and jaw and then up to his mouth. Reid's arms wrapped around the man he knew for sure was going to kill him and he accepted the 'hello' kiss.

They sat in the car. Reid was behind the wheel. Floyd was staring out of the window. 'You bought this pile of shit?' Floyd asked.

'No. I rented it. I thought you'd like it.'

'I like bikes not fancy arse lumps of crap. You should have known better.'

'I don't have a bike license.'

Floyd nodded. 'And you didn't think to rectify that problem in the two years I've been locked away?'

Spencer swallowed back the bile which was crawling up into his throat. 'I will sort that out as soon as I can.' Spencer whispered. He thought Floyd would like the car. He thought he'd been doing the right thing.

Floyd fucking _loved_ the car! It was love at first sight! He adored it. But that wasn't the point. And he did like bikes better and Spencer should have worked that out on his own. He would have done if he'd not been thinking of Hotchner all the time. If he'd kept his arse covered up and his dick in his pants then he'd have thought to get a Harley. Floyd wiped with irritation at a leaf which had fallen onto the dashboard. 'Going to sit there all day or are you going to actually drive it? I assume you can drive it and it's not just some penny in the slot shit.'

Reid started the engine. It purred beautifully. 'So, where do you want to go?'

'Vegas.' Floyd said as the car moved away slowly out of the prison complex and out onto the wide open spaces of the road. Wide open spaces which made Floyd put a hand on the top of his head. Too much sky. Much too much. 'How much did you pay for this?' He asked as the wind blew the dust and prison smells out of his hair.

'Doesn't matter. It was meant as a surprise from me to you.'

'Was a fucking surprise all right.' Floyd snapped. 'And it does matter. I need to pay you back. I don't like being in debt to people. I always like to pay people back.'

Spencer's heart thudded in his chest at the words. It wasn't the car Floyd was talking about now. It was something much more deadly. Something which didn't involve money. 'I know you don't like the word, but I'm sorry.' Spencer muttered as he drove down the road being careful to keep to the speed limits.

'Sorry about what?' Floyd asked. Maybe genuine curiosity. Was Spencer actually going to own up to what he'd done?

'That you took the blame.'

No need to reply to that one. No need at all. The little rat was going to pretend it hadn't happened. Floyd was going to have to remind him that it had. But there was plenty of time to do that. Let Spencer relax first. Let his guard go down… then… and only then. Some people just need to keep learning the same lessons over and over again.

They stopped the night at a grubby motel. Floyd insisted upon it even though Spencer suggested somewhere nicer. Really what was the point? It was a U shaped complex on two levels. In the middle of the U was a circular swimming pool with a metal fence around it and 'out of order.' Printed on a bit of cardboard fixed to the gate with white plastic tags. They could see the pool from their room. They could hear the midges swarming over the thick green water from their room too.

Spencer had a shower.

Floyd stood on the walkway outside their room and looked down at the filthy pool and thought vaguely about asking the owner if he could clean it… or drown Spencer in it? One or the other, but he didn't. It would mean being out there… out in the total open with stars above his head and he wasn't quite ready for that yet. He leaned on the wooden barrier and tried to flick fag ash on the heads of people walking past underneath. He caught a few but they didn't seem to notice.

Spencer had been hoping that Floyd would join him in the shower, but it didn't happen. Spencer told Floyd that he was going to nip out and get a burger and asked what he wanted. Floyd shook his head and showed Spencer his hands. A couple of fingers on his left hand were badly nicotine stained. 'I want smokes.' Floyd told him.

'You should eat something.' Spencer sat on the walkway next to Floyd.

'What I should do and what I actually end up doing are very different, Spence. I should have let you go down for what you did. I should have let those animals have the Fed. They'd have torn you apart within days.' Floyd patted the side of Reid's pale face. 'Lucky fucker aren't you? Now be a good boy and get me some damned smokes. And nothing with _light_ printed on them. I want to feel my lungs dying.'

'Smoking as much as you do is…'

'You're having a laugh! Don't even _start_ to give me health advice boy. Get me some fucking smokes or go back in the sodding room. You're invading my personal space. Fuck off.' Floyd snapped at Spencer who flinched back. Funnily enough though this felt better. This felt more like the Floyd he knew how to deal with. Spencer nodded slowly, stood and walked away. He paused at the top of the steps for what he knew was coming next. 'Ten fucking minutes… then I come looking for you. And you don't want that.'

'It's going to take longer than ten minutes, Floyd. It will take that long to walk to the take out place.'

'The reception here… the one I can see from where I'm sitting… it has a machine with fags… Go… I'll be watching you from here. And no… don't open that filthy whore's mouth and try to tell me you want a fucking burger. I don't give a shit what you want. Get me my smokes or get back in the fucking room.' Floyd picked something out of his ear and flicked it towards Spencer who did what he was told and jogged to the reception and got Floyd his smokes. When he arrived back again he sat down next to Floyd and handed them over.

'Do you want to come inside?' Spencer tentatively put an arm around Floyd's shoulders and got a surprise when Floyd leaned in against Spencer and put an arm around his waist.

'I don't wanna be inside Spence. I've only just gotten out. And yeah I know I had time in the yard but it wasn't like this shit. I didn't realise how much I'd missed it. The sky at night… fucking awesome isn't it? The smell of life…the buzz of insects… the dust and dirt and grime and filth… it's all so much more out here.'

Spencer smiled. 'I love looking at the stars too. Imagining you looking at the same ones when we're in different places.'

'Except I wasn't looking at them was I Spencer? I was locked in at night like some rabid fucking wolf. Something they had to keep a check on. And if I was in actuality a fucking rabid animal I would have understood their reasoning, but they were scared of me Spencer.' Floyd pulled a smoke from the pack and lit up. 'Fucking pissed them selves with fear. Can you believe that mother fucker Hotchner warned them that I was volatile and insane? Can you fucking believe the audacity of that slime? Well I proved him wrong. I behaved. At least on the surface I behaved. But that shouldn't have been babes. It shouldn't have been like that. I should have just been one more fuck there on remand. Held there until they worked out what to do with this murdering son of a bitch… but they bloody well knew all along. What are you going to do about it Spence? All those nights I spent alone thinking of you… what were you doing? All that time, day after fucking boring day doing the same thing with the same people. It's a routine though you know? It's something quite addictive. You wake up at the same time… go back down to rest at the same time. Green jello on Wednesday and pink on a Friday… always… always the fucking same… Same food on the same days… oh except Christmas. Oh Christmas inside the slammer is something you really do need to experience to believe. Those fucks really honestly think we're going to sing carols and play party games? Fuckers. But at least we got turkey and ham and roast spuds. Same smells though.' Floyd turned and blew smoke in Reid's face. 'You know how a dog likes to sniff at the ground when you walk it? Well I'm a bit like that. I like to leave my mark and I like to go back and check it's still there, but always the same places Spencer. Always the same. Day after day. Latrine after latrine. Nothing changes. But you see… now I'm not there. Someone will be scenting over my places.' Again a long puff of smoke in Spencer's face. 'And _that_ pisses me off.'

'Well I'm glad you're out. Cant you just come inside now? I'll give you a massage.'

Floyd raised an eyebrow at Spencer. Were you listening to a word I fucking well said?'

'You hated the routine. I understand.'

A hard shove pushed Spencer out of the way. 'No babes, I loved that routine. Go to the room, I'll be in later.'

Spencer decided that it was good to give Floyd some space. He would have liked something to eat; his stomach was rumbling, but that was a small price to pay to avoid Floyd's fists. He left the door of the room open and lay on his back staring at the ceiling. He unbuttoned his shirt and pushed his hair back behind his ears. Hair which he'd not had cut since Floyd had been locked away and hair which Floyd didn't comment on. That was fine. He was finding his feet again and experiencing the world outside after two years… which considering how long some people were kept locked up for wasn't that long. For someone who loved to roam around forests and hated to feel confined it was an eternity. Reid lay there and absent mindedly flicked one of his nipples. When he woke up again there was light outside, the door was still open and Spencer was laying there still on his back. The smell of cigarettes had faded. There didn't seem to be any smell of Floyd there at all. Slowly Spencer pulled his shirt closed and walked out to where Floyd had been sitting. He was gone. There was a pile of smoked butts on the boards and a charred patch as though he'd tried to set the boards alight, but there was no Floyd. Spencer frowned and bit down on his bottom lip and closing the door behind him went down to see if Floyd had been to the reception desk or out to the car.

Reception desk no.

Car very likely, as it was gone.

Reid stood there in the dust and cursed silently. Not at Floyd but at himself for not being more pushy, or for not being more understanding… for not listening hard enough, for not apologising enough. For not doing whatever it was which would have kept Floyd here with him and not driving around in a car which Spencer had to return today.

o-o-o

Floyd pulled up outside the ranch house. It hadn't been too hard to find the address even though it wasn't listed anywhere. A big place it was in an L shape with a big old cactus set in the middle. Floyd didn't drive through the gates. He left the dark blue car at the edge of a ditch and climbed over the gate.

He could smell Sam from here. The stink wafted over the sandy, gritty driveway and crawled up his nose and then into his brain. His boots crunched on the ground and his blood pounded in his ears. Hot day, but Floyd never seemed to get sun burn… what Floyd got was bitten by a million insects. They seemed to home in on his dislike for anything buzzy and whip themselves up into a blood drinking frenzy. Floyd waved a gathering cloud away from in front of his face and spat a fly out of his mouth. He rang the doorbell and rubbed the toe of his boots on the back of his black dirty jeans. He waited and rang again. Then again. Then he stopped waiting and was about to hammer on the god damned door, when it swung open.

Floyd eyed up the man standing there. A big man. A tall fit looking man with a slightly red nose. (sun burn or drink Floyd wasn't sure).

'Teevy?' Floyd enquired as politely as he could.

'And you are?'

And politeness stopped. Floyd placed a hand on Teevy's chest and pushed him aside at the same time calling through the cool interior of the house.

'Sam! To me!' Like you would call a dog to heel with an accompanying click of the fingers.

'Look here Mister. You cant just…'

'I'll do what I fucking want Teevy. Now please don't stand so close to me. I need space. Lots of space…' He stopped talking as Sam hurtled around the corner and leapt at Floyd. He wrapped his legs around Floyd's waist and his arms around his neck and would have given him a welcoming kiss if it hadn't been for the thing on his face. Floyd took a step back to balance and then another step back… and another until his back was to the wall. He then gently pulled off Sam who was grinding hungrily against Floyd and placed him down on the floor. Floyd said nothing. He just stood and stared, looked at Teevy and then back at Sam again and shook his head.

'What the _fuck_ is that on your face?'

Sam's hand went to give it a tug but Teevy pulled it back again and spoke for Sam. 'Sam has had extensive surgery on his face and head; especially around his jaw. He needs this to keep things where they're meant to be whilst he heals properly.'

Floyd stared at Sam and nodded quickly. 'So where did the black eye come from?' There was still a yellowing mark under Sam's eye. 'And why is he shooting up shit? And why? Just _why?_ Why the fuck… and what? No… I'm not accepting this. This is so much shit. I'm not…' He took Sam by his face brace making him yelp. 'I know what you did. I thought it was just Spence but you have to stick your fucking dirty little mind in where it doesn't belong and fuck up everything don't you? You deserve all you damned well get. You really do. What did you ask for… let me guess… you asked for a soul and you asked for comfort. Well you got it… the soul died when you invaded it but you certainly got your luxury didn't you. You've learnt nothing. All the years of training and all the damned talks and you take not a blind bit of fucking notice. You cant get what you want, what you really truly want by begging. Doesn't fucking work like that!' Floyd's voice had raised to a shout. 'You have to fucking work for it! You have to slave away and suffer and show that you're worth what you want. You have to throw things aside even if you don't want to! I've told you all of that! I explained it a million damned times and now look at you! You've got a nice house and people who care for you and you're fucked! Totally fucked up. You stupid selfish immature little maggot!'

'But he smashed my face in!' Sam wailed back. 'I just wanted…'

'I know what you wanted! I've fucking known you too long Sam… I know… You wanted access to cock, heroin, painkillers, a soft bed, electric lights… stop me when I say something wrong… and you want to be a real chap… you want what you cant fucking have, never will have, never can have… not even if they decided that they would relent and allow it… it cant fucking happen because you are me! Do you understand that! You are me and I'm not going begging those fucks for a soul… and until I do… then you sonny boy are screwed… and with that thing on your face can I even get my cock in your mouth? No! Fucking no! What therefore is the damned point in your fucking existence apart from you nicking off people to sooth your own sorry arse!'

Floyd said no more. He turned on his heels and walked back out through the door leaving Sam standing with his mouth very slightly open and a dreadful need to pee.

'That was the Floyd Flanders you talk so much about? The person who is coming to rescue you and save you from us?' Teevy asked quietly. 'Sam, I know you don't feel like we are your family…'

'Oh fuck off you old cunt.' Sam snapped and walked back to the family room. He'd wanted to tell Floyd that Teevy had belted him. He wanted to tell Floyd that Spencer was a whore. He wanted Floyd to need him and love him and fuck him and mend his face.

o-o-o

Spencer waited. He didn't know what else to do. He could report the car stolen, but that would have been just stupid. There was no point in stirring trouble when he didn't need to. He hoped Floyd just wanted to take the car for a quick (or maybe even better, slow) run out in the wilds. He walked to the small corner place and got the burger he'd been craving the night before, but now he didn't really want it. After a couple of nibbles he threw it in the bin. By the time he'd walked back again and stopped to look at his feet for a considerable amount of time, Floyd was actually back! He wanted to break out into a run and hug him, but didn't. He wandered calmly over to where Floyd was leaning on the car. In a way Spencer hoped it was a different car, because the one he'd parked up last night wasn't scratched down the side and didn't have a dent in the front fender. It also didn't have a puddle of something green on the small back seat. Spencer took a deep breath and said nothing about the car, but gave Floyd a small smile.

'I was hoping you'd come back.'

Floyd gave a shrug and took Spencer's hand. 'We need to talk.'

'Am I allowed to be scared?' Spencer whispered.

'Nope. With me. I booked the room for another night. We need to sit and talk about shit and stuff.'

Now Spencer couldn't help but look closer at the dents and scratches covering the car. 'Err… what happened?' He nodded at the mess… at least to Spencer it looked like a mess.

'Nothing much.' Floyd shrugged again. 'You worry too much. Insurance will cover it.'

'I'll lose my deposit.' Spencer sighed.

'Ah well… live and learn huh?' He then walked from the car dragging Spencer behind him.

o-o-o

The room had been aired and cleaned. It was now mid afternoon and Floyd sat on one of the twin beds with a cheroot in his left hand and bottle of red wine in his right. He gestured that Spencer should for now at least, sit on the other twin bed and face him. 'We are just going to talk.' Floyd insisted. So why was Spencer wondering if Floyd was going to dump his body in the back seat of that lovely open top car, on top of the green ooze, and dump him in the desert? Floyd didn't offer Spencer a drink, but he did offer him a smoke. Oddly Spencer accepted it.

They sat for a while in silence. Floyd working out exactly he was going to go about this without having to clean up evidence later, and where to get digging tools to bury _bits_ and Spencer too afraid to do more than breathe in the noxious fumes from the cheroot. It was making him feel sick, but turning down something Floyd had offered at this point was not acceptable.

'So…' Floyd finally said. 'I went to see Sam.' Spencer blew out smoke but still said nothing. 'There's a problem.' Still Spencer stayed silent. 'But that's something I can maybe sort out later. For now I want you to talk to me, Spence. I want to know everything… Well I already know _most_ everything, but in your own words please.' A pause in which Spencer still said nothing. 'In your own time babes.' When Spencer remained silent, Floyd carried on. 'Let me help you out a bit…'

'No.' Spencer shook his head. 'I just don't know where you want me to start. I visited you… regularly, then you stopped me.'

Floyd made an irritated gesture with his hand. 'Go forward a bit love… forward.'

Now Spencer looked confused. 'Is it the car your bothered about?'

'Stop being so fucking obtuse Spence.'

'Hotch.'

Now Floyd nodded. 'Carry on sweety. Carry on. I want to hear everything from start to finish. I want to hear every grunt and moan.'

'It's not like it seems.' Spencer tried to reason.

'You went to Agent Aaron Hotchner and let him fuck you. It's not how it seems? Then explain it to me babes, cos you've got me all confused.' Floyd leaned forward and placed a hand on Reid's knee. 'Tell me he raped you. Give me a _good_ reason to go rip his balls off and make you eat them for breakfast. Come on my darling lover… the man I asked to be with me forever… the man I was locked up in the slammer for two years for… talk to me babes. Explain it. Tell me what happened. What the _fuck_ went on in your head when you went to see him? Did you go there for that purpose? Did you take condoms and lube? Did you read dirty magazines afterwards and watch porn… were there mirrors on the ceiling… did he pay you? Was it by the hour? Talk to me! What you gone that funny colour for? Tell me what in the name of living shit you thought you were playing at?'

Reid didn't move. He didn't even breathe for a while. He wanted his heart to stop thumping and deafening him like it seemed to be. He wanted the world to come to a standstill and let him off. He swallowed and this throat made a dry clicking sound as Floyd's fingers dug into his knee. 'I had been drinking. I wasn't drunk, but I was maybe… maudlin.'

'Maudlin?'

'Maybe not the right word. I don't know what happened!'

'Must have been good then.'

Spencer shook his head. Floyd was trying to confuse him. 'I went there for the soul purpose of getting it out… the feelings… the need. I went there hoping he'd do what he did, but for the life of me I don't know why! I was waiting for you to come home again. I'd written you a short letter – I don't know if you got it – but I was waiting… I'd had two years to play around if that's what I wanted. Floyd you have to believe me… I know what happened. I remember every little twitch of it. It's embedded into my memory playing in a constant loop… I shouldn't have gone there. I know I shouldn't have gone there, but when I did… at that moment…'

Floyd nodded. 'Was he better than me? Do you remember every twitch I make? Was he _good_? Was it worth it?'

'It was like some weird fuzziness over took me.'

Now Floyd stood… still with the bottle in his hand, but the cheroot he dropped to the floor. 'A weird fuzziness. Well that really explains it babes. Why the hell didn't you tell me that from the start? A weird fuzziness. I like that! I'm going to use that when I kill the bastard. I'll use that as my defence. _Sorry m'lud … I was under the influence of a weird fuzziness._ And you know something Spence, as much as I missed you and as much as I wanted you… I actually didn't mind my time inside. I had complete control over them. Could have walked out when I wanted I guess, but it wasn't so bad. I like pink jello… but what I'm saying honey, is that I'm going to kill Hotchner.' He drank from the bottle then swung it over his shoulder as though he was holding a bat. 'You look like you're going to object, Spence.'

'It wasn't his fault. Please Floyd.'

'Please? _Please?_ Have you seen the fucking mess Sam is in?' Spencer watched Floyd's grubby knuckles whiten on the neck of the bottle. 'Have you seen what you did to him? I'll tell you something sugarpie. I love two things… people… apart from myself… I _do_ and I might have been in denial for many long years but I can only think of one reason I get pulled back to you each time and only one reason that I need you in my damned… no pun intended… life… I must love you. Makes me want to scream and hurl things and vomit, but I guess that's the only word which really fits the feelings… there's you, there's Sam. Now the Sam thing is different because Sam is more like me in waiting… standby… If something happens to me… something which cannot be rectified by a lot of grovelling and pleading and arse licking, then I can move over to Sam. But there lies the problem buster… you broke his face.'

'Floyd…'

'Shut the fuck _up_! You whore! There was one person I asked you not to go to. One damned person. Not a whole town full… not a fucking street of people… I didn't ask you to do anything life threatening or painful. I asked you to keep away from Hotchner and I'm sorry babes but a little bit of fuzziness isn't going to wash with me. You broke Sam and then you fucked up and broke my trust… you want me to leave Hotchner alone? Yes of course you do. You want him to be safe.' Floyd started to bounce the bottle on his shoulder. 'But you don't give a flying fuck about me.'

'That's…'

'I told you to shut the fuck up!' And now the bottle swung. Spencer felt it make contact with the side of his head. He heard something shatter… he felt something warm explode down the side of his face and then the room slid sideways and he drifted into darkness.

Floyd sat back down on the bed still holding the neck of the smashed bottle. He watched the wine soak into the bedclothes and watched it get a bit redder than maybe it should have done. But Spencer deserved that. Actually he deserved a whole lot more. Floyd looked at the spiked tube of glass in his hand and then at Spencer and back at the glass again. 'I shouldn't.' He muttered and carefully placed the glass down. Had that been Hotchner laying unconscious on the bed Floyd would certainly have introduced Hotch to the pain of being fucked with broken glass, but it was his Spence… his love, his sweet. His property.

This made him think of the tattoo on his back and wonder if he should get Spencer to have one… only obviously with _FLOYD_ written in fancy arsed writing, not the crappola he had scratched into his own back.

'A brand.' Floyd whispered to himself as he pushed Spencer over onto his back. 'Are you sleeping my beloved?' Floyd asked as he undid Spencer's belt. 'Well let's see if I can awaken you. Turn onto your belly dearest before I have to kick you into place.' Spencer lay unmoving. 'Well you are making life awkward for me aren't you babes. Firstly you kill my other me… my Sam… and then you fuck Hotchner… and now you don't even look like you're enjoying yourself. What has the world come to? It's been lain to ruins since I was locked up.' He pulled Spencer off the bed by his left foot. 'Mind your chin.' Floyd said as Spencer's face cracked onto the floor. 'Oops… Never mind. I'm sure that it doesn't hurt as much as what you did to Sam. Now… for a reconstruction of your delightful fuck fest with Aaron… Spencer? Are you listening to me? Do I have to make it up as I go along? Ahh… sleepy… all that wine… a whole fucking bottle… went straight to your head.' Floyd smirked at his own joke.


	35. Chapter 35

35

He sat at Spencer's side and had a post coital smoke. He felt calm and relaxed. He'd reclaimed his property, but he needed something a bit more permanent. The idea of a brand was still wafting through his mind as he looked down and saw, not for the first time, the dressing on Spencer's wrist. With a quick swipe he pulled it off and looked now at the red gash in Spencer's arm. It sat there amongst other scars and marks from the past and it narked Floyd that his lovely beautiful Spencer thought it was OK to scar himself. It however didn't stop Floyd from lowering his cheroot and pressing the burning end to a soft bit of as yet unmarked skin just above the red line. He sat and looked at what he'd done and then added another four to it. If Spencer needed a reminder of what he was and what he wasn't permitted to do or say, then let this be a reminder. It also reminded Floyd that this wasn't love he was feeling after all. It was greed and maybe a touch of addiction. It was like that hateful buzzing of insects he got when he walked through dense damp forest… irritating as hell… bloodsucking… itchy… but necessary and in an odd way he missed it when it wasn't there. Life in the slammer had been different. He'd had walls around him locks on doors. And though he'd occasionally felt claustrophobic he'd also felt a very good sense of control and that had felt right. It felt how life should be. Not being enclosed and guarded and locked in, but that control. It had recharged his batteries and let him see where he was going wrong. The way to keep both Spencer and Sam in his control was to keep them close. He'd let them wander around… try to find their own thoughts and have their own lives and that just wasn't good enough.

Spencer wasn't permitted to have his own life and thoughts.

Sam certainly wasn't capable of thinking for himself.

He had to haul them both in. Keep them within visual range at all times, control their thinking, move them around carefully like pawns on a chess board. It was time to take back what had slowly been whittled away.

After prodding Spencer for five minutes, it seemed that he wasn't going to wake up yet. His head had stopped bleeding which was a good thing and he made little moaning sounds if kicked hard enough, but Floyd didn't think he'd be going anywhere soon.

Not worth taking the risk though.

He'd trusted Spencer time over and been fucked around. He wasn't going to let this shit carry on. Spencer _had_ to learn. Or at least be reminded of exactly what his position was. (Hog tied, gagged, and left on the floor between the beds was the current position.)

o-o-o

Mrs Teevy was softer hearted than her husband.

Sam had gone running to his blacked out rubber floored room, but the door was open and from the bottom of the stairs Mrs Teevy could hear Sam's crying.

'He's attention seeking.' Mr Teevy growled.

'Well maybe I need to give him some attention.' Mrs Teevy sighed. 'I cant leave him up there crying like that. He's been hurt so much… it's not right.'

Mr Teevy didn't argue. He went to the family room, sat down and listened to the air conditioning whirring slightly. Mrs Teevy tiptoed up the stairs and down the passage and stood outside the odd room Sam had demanded. She wasn't sure if he knew she was there and so she gave a small cough.

Sam looked up from where he was wrapped around himself in the corner. 'What?' He moaned at her.

She walked carefully into the room and without asking Sam's permission she sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. 'I cant say that I even begin to understand what's going on in your head, but I'm here to listen if you want to talk about things. That man; the one who came to the house, he is the one you've been waiting for?'

Sam wiped his snotty nose on the back of his hand and nodded. 'He'll never accept me if I have this thing on my face. Never.'

'You're only sixteen Abe, Sam, has he touched you anywhere he shouldn't?' There was honest concern in her voice.

'Are you asking if he's fucked me?' Sam raised an eyebrow. 'You know something Mother?' She shook her head slowly. 'I'm not gay. I like girls too. I like to give and to take. Does that disgust you?'

Again she shook her head. 'No. It doesn't disgust me. I'm a very open minded person, but you _are_ only sixteen and…'

'You are going to tell me that anal sex is illegal. You're going to threaten to tell the cops that Floyd arse fucks me. You're going to try to take him from me. Really there's no need. He's done the same as everyone does. It's always the same and it seems that it's been like that even when I was Abraham, right from the moment I was born, or probably even before then… Rejected every damned time, and you know why?'

'I've not rejected you.' She held him tighter. 'Father said some things to you which maybe he shouldn't have said, but that's his way. He pushes people away before they can push him. It's always to do with money or business. It's how he copes, but that doesn't make it right. Just remember that I've not and never will reject you. When you were placed in my arms for the first time, you were this tiny little bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. You had this huge shock of black hair and the most alarmingly intelligent eyes I'd ever seen. I marvelled at your tiny fingers and toes. I kissed you on your little head and you smelt of soap and milk. You were my greatest joy and biggest love, and the arrival of the girls didn't change that. Before the accident, when life was so sweet and things so simple, you were my biggest pride and joy. I don't want you to ever forget that.'

'And now?' Sam wiped at the tears with the heel of this hands.

'And now I'm just confused. I'm concerned and scared for you. You're doing things I never thought you would, but you are still that tiny thing in the blue blanket and those eyes… they are still the most intelligent thing I've ever looked at.'

'But I cant stay here. I'll have to go to him. He will demand I go back.'

'Abraham… please let me call you that… Abraham, I will die before I let that paedophile take you from me. I wont let him destroy you.'

'I'm his.'

'No… no Abe… you're _not_ his. You are your own person. Never let someone tell you otherwise. If you want boyfriends then why would that bother me, but you are sixteen. That's what is worrying me.'

Sam wanted to tell her that he wasn't. He wanted to tell her that he was older than the mountains in the north of this country. He wanted to explain to her that he couldn't stay here, but he didn't. He leaned over and rested his head in her lap and sucked up every bit of love he could from her. He cried and shook and sobbed and begged her never to push him away emotionally. He leeched from her love and happiness and forgiveness and every loving emotion he could. It wasn't that he'd planned it, or even knew he was going to do it as he lay there and felt her stroking his hair off his sticky sweaty face, it just sort of happened. The way a drunk will take that sip… and another and another, or the heavy smoker will have _just one more_… Or maybe more like the way a leech will suck at your blood until it is so full it just falls away. It will use an anaesthetic so that the victim wont feel it sucking and sucking and sucking, until it has to move away and digest. But be beware. It will just gather strength and return. And there will always be more… always until that person has been bled dry.

He fell asleep being hugged by someone. Not something which Sam had much experience of, and it felt good. Though when he woke up in the morning he was alone, someone (mother probably) had put a blanket over him and given him a pillow so his brace didn't dig in. Sam set out to start his new plan of action. Not completely knowingly. Today he was going to start his campaign. He was going to get someone to love him if it killed him… or them… preferably them.

Sam found mother in the kitchen. She was doing what all great mothers do and was baking cookies. Sam stood in the kitchen doorway with curl to his upper lip. It was fine. She couldn't see him. He looked at her as she placed the tray of raw dough in the oven. He watched the way her soft summer dress lay across her buttocks. Sam guessed she was wearing a thong. She seemed like the sort of person who was all roses and cookie dough on the outside, but underneath she was a slut like all other females. He drew in a long breath of air through his nose to see if he could pick up on her womanly smells, but all he could pick up on was some expensive perfume and talcum powder. She'd had a shower, or a soak in the tub. Probably the latter as her hair was dry and tied back in a tight pony tail. All ready it felt as though his subconscious cunning plan was falling apart. He didn't want to be in the kitchen with that woman who hid her sins under designer dresses and perfume.

'I was wondering.' Sam spoke.

It made Mrs Teevy jump. She didn't know he'd been watching. She turned slowly to look at him and smiled. 'Good morning Abe. What have you been wondering? You want something you can nibble on? A drink?'

'Yeah I was wondering.' She took a step towards Sam who took a step back and raised a hand. Not to hit out, but to ward off. 'When does something stop becoming need and greed and become honest?'

She wasn't sure what he meant, but poured him a coffee anyway. 'Here.' She held it out, but Sam didn't step closer.

'I don't want it. I don't want food or drink. It fucks with the shit wired inside my mouth and I cant get it clean properly. I hate having bits stuck where they shouldn't be stuck. You said you'd never reject me.'

Mrs Teevy placed the mug on the big kitchen table. 'I said that.'

'Even if I did something really abhorrent?'

'I would hope you'd not.'

Sam nodded and turned to leave, but then turned back to look at Mrs Teevy. 'You'll always be that woman who took the baby and cared for it, but I know this family has money and I was wondering how much you paid for me?'

Her hand went to her face. It wasn't something she ever thought she would be asked. 'Paid?' She tried to put on an innocent face, but the red flush to her cheeks told Sam that the innocence only went as far as her outer layers.

Sam made a gesture with his hands. 'Wonga… Dosh… how much was I? Did you have a choice between me and another kid who cost more?'

Mrs Teevy pulled out a kitchen chair and asked Sam to sit, but he stood and shook his head. 'You said that everything Father does is about money. Investments… shit like that… so what was I? An investment? Is that why he's so pissed off with me? Is that why you'll never turn away from me, because I cost too many dollars in the first place?'

'Abraham – it wasn't like that.'

Again deceit. Sam shook his head. 'You might never reject me, but I'll never trust you… you can understand that cant you Mother? I cant trust someone who purchased a child like you would have gotten a new car. Just something to show off. Something to make you look better.'

'Oh – you poor boy! It wasn't like that at all!' She moved again towards Sam who again moved back.

'Don't you touch me. You deceitful bitch! I thought for a while last night that you loved me. I thought that the hug and words were genuine, and then I got to thinking and thinking and thinking… and I thought I could love you back… then a thought came to me.' Sam now moved forwards a pace. 'Your cookies are burning Mother. What are you going to do? Rescue them and stop the smoke alarm going off, or are you going to persuade me with truth that I'm not just an extra line on your CV.'

She glanced behind her and then looked back at Sam again. He'd taken a step back away from her once more. 'It's not the sort of subject you or I or anyone should be discussing when angry. I suggest that you go and have a nice long soak in the tub or have a refreshing shower and when you have calmed down we will talk about this.'

Sam nodded. 'So you did hand over money.' Mrs Teevy didn't respond. 'And now I'm damaged goods. Cant go to school. Cant have that brilliant education you wanted for me. I cant make money for you.' Sam spun on the spot and stomped off. The idea of a soak in the tub had been a good one and he followed her advice but _not_ because of her suggestion. But because _he_ wanted to.

_And fuck you if you don't believe that!_

Mrs Teevy made a phone call as soon as Sam was out of ear shot. She slapped the cell phone down with irritation when her husband's cell went to voice mail. There was no point in leaving a message. He'd see she'd called and get back to her when he could. Cookies were removed from the oven with only a slight tinge that they'd maybe been in there too long and she then sat at the kitchen table and had a quick sneaky smoke.

o-o-o

There was a reason Mr Teevy didn't answer his cell phone. He had been driving down one of the back routes cutting across the scrub lands but had to pull over and frown at the car blocking the road. There was no room to get by it. The vehicle was stopped up crossing both lanes. Teevy sat looking at the man standing leaning on the car. He recognised him.

Teevy wasn't going to be menaced by this man. He turned off his engine, pulled a .45 out of the glove compartment and slid out of his smart silver SUV. He held the gun down at his side as he stood there looking at Floyd who was looking right back at him with eyes which looked horribly like those of Abraham… or Sam… it was a deep dark brooding intelligence which didn't really have a place where it was. It was such an intense look that Teevy for a minute wondered if this man was in actuality an alien. He wondered also if bullets would kill him. He should have loaded up with silver rounds.

'I needed to talk to you away from the house.' Floyd opened up the chat.

'I have nothing to talk to you about, expect to tell you to keep the hell away from my family.'

Floyd nodded and pointed to the gun. 'You going to use that on me? Get it over with if you are. I'm not in the mood for games.' Floyd stepped closer. 'I have this ability…'

_Flying? Mind Reading? X-Ray Vision? Super Human Strength? _Mr Teevy wondered what this special ability was as his fingers tightened around the butt of the gun.

'Mind reading.' Floyd answered for Teevy, who let out a small moan. 'Not yours. Don't panic. What I pick up from you is fear and a tad bit of confusion. Well I don't blame you for having that sudden need to relieve yourself. Put the fucking gun down Teevy. If you were going to use it I'd be dead by now. _Drop_ it and have a piss. You'll feel _so_ much better. And then I'm going to go through a list of things which I'm not too happy about. Good… good fellow… kick the gun under your pile of shit car and then get your little man out and have a slash… well done. See how easy it is to follow simple instructions?' Floyd waited as Teevy struggled to have a pee which now didn't seem to want to happen. 'OK… now what I would like you to do is zipper yourself up again and take three steps in my direction. There – wasn't that easy as shit?' Floyd smiled a dirty toothed smile at Teevy who wasn't smiling in return. 'Now Teevy, I came to your house and I saw the mess Sam was in and it pissed me off, but I recognise fully that it had nothing to do with you. It's not your fault Sam is a stupid greedy shit. I'm sure he never learnt that offa you, more probably he got that trait from me, but it's not important. What _is_ important that later, as I sat surrounded by broken glass, cheroot butts, spilt wine, and blood… it was that… it was the blood that made me kinda think back.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Teevy snarled.

'Of course you don't! You weren't there! I'm going to explain it to you now though and I'm warning you now that there is going to be only one possible correct response to what I say, and if that is not what I want to hear then I'm going to tear you apart and feed your bloodied remains – the parts I don't personally eat – to the buzzards. Does that suit you?'

Teevy made a small noise in the back of his throat. It might have been an agreement and it might have been all that was left of his ability to shout for help, and either way was just fine with Floyd.

'Sam stank of blood, ointment, rage, despair… he was in pain, but not from that thing on his face. I wrapped my arms around him and supported his arse as he clung hold of me like I was going to rescue him from something, but from what? Why would he need rescuing? Why? He is living in a lovely house, has access to money, drugs, girls, boys, alcohol, mirrors… clothes! Shoes! Fucking makeup I expect! Does he cross dress? Yes? Well you see he is a boy who has everything… so why – this is what I was thinking as I sat surrounded my the mess of my passionate love making, why did he stink of old blood, stale sweat, fear, antiseptic ointment? And why did he wince when I grabbed his arse?'

Teevy made that strange noise again and Floyd nodded.

'You hit my boy?' Teevy nodded. 'What with?' Teevy's fingers drifted to his belt. 'You belted my boy?'

'He's not your boy.' Teevy uttered his last words.

Floyd made a horrific mess.

He'd not killed in this much anger since… well probably since last time he had, but that wasn't the point… the point was that this bastard had belted his Sam and had made the lad afraid. Only Floyd was allowed to do that. Teevy lay over the desert in little pieces. Some of him was draped over a cactus, some was splattered and twinkling in the sunlight as it quivered in the branches of small shrubby plants. Blood soaked into the tarmac of the road and down into the ditch at the side. It seemed to puddle and ooze everywhere. If Floyd hadn't known better he'd have thought that there were gallons of blood here. He slurped down on some. It was bitter, sour, diseased and no good. But the brain was sweet and refreshing (if not slightly salty). Floyd was under no delusion that the remains wouldn't be found. He knew they would be, but would they be able to pin this on him… well yes, probably they would, but he'd worry about that after he'd gone and collected Sam and sorted out whatever had to be sorted out at the ranch. He didn't want to leave Spencer for too long alone, but Sam had to be scooped up and sorted out before he could go back. Teevy's cell phone which was sitting on the passenger seat bleeped a couple of times. Floyd ignored it. He ignored the gun Teevy had kicked under the car. He ignored the fact that he was covered in blood and probably stank like a drunk butcher. Floyd got in his (Spencer's) open top car and drove at a remarkable speed towards the ranch.

He didn't park outside this time. He drove (without slowing) through the gates; the closed gates, which made the car make a cracking grinding sound and made Floyd say 'Oops.' He skidded it to a stop outside the main doors and walked calmly to those doors and pressed the bell.

Floyd waited. He heard the echo of the doorbell from inside the house. _Ding dong_… 'Ding dong bell… pussy in the well.' Floyd muttered. 'Come on come on before I have to huff and puff…' The door opened and Mrs Teevy stood there with an oven glove on one hand and a surprised look on her face. '… I'll blow… naa… forget it. Mrs Teevy?' There was a short nod. 'Thank you darling… now if you will just kneel on the door mat for me.'

'Kneel?'

Floyd glanced up and saw Sam standing there with a towel wrapped around his middle. 'Oh Sammy boy, my sweet princess… show me your arse. Let me know that I've not made a horrible error in judgement… Mrs Teevy you appear to still be on your feet… I'd like a reason for that.'

'I…'

'Don't talk to me, just kneel, but I want you also to look at Sam's arse and tell me that if it wasn't for the horrendous damage your dearly departed husband did on it, that would actually be the sweetest little arse I've ever seen. Obviously not anymore… You are still not kneeling. Sam go get your things… Pack… We're leaving.'

Mrs Teevy slowly went down to her knees. 'Please don't hurt me.' She slipped off her oven glove.

'No don't hurt her! I need to know something from her first!' A voice bellowed from upstairs. It caused Floyd to raise both his eyebrows at her and then smirk. 'A small life line. You are one hell of a lucky cunt. Get in the family room and settle yourself down somewhere comfortable. I suggest somewhere you fancy you'd like your remains to be found. SAM! Get a fucking move on! I don't have all sodding day.' Floyd watched MrsTeevy sit down in the large leather armchair. Floyd perched on the edge of the coffee table. 'Well this _is_ cosy. Nice room.' Mrs Teevy twiddled with her buttons and Floyd watched every twiddle as he sat there sitting in clothes drenched in her husbands blood. Floyd wondered if she realised what that squelching sound was and what the stink was coming from Floyd.

The stink was something Sam recognised as he appeared in the doorway with a bag slug over his shoulder. It wasn't blood Sam could smell. It was more of a nose tingling sensation… not even really a smell. It was rage… RAGE! _RAGE_ so extreme that it was making Sam's eyes water and the eye he couldn't see out of twitch slightly. It made Sam's nose run… and it made him move his bag so it hung in front of him to cover his love of this sensation. It was like the smell just before (or is it just after) (maybe during) a severe thunderstorm. The sort which makes even the grown ups want to hide in a cupboard. The sort that screams in the sky like a god has just died. That's the smell. Ozone. Buzzing nose tingling ozone. Floyd had made a kill and was getting ready to make another. Sam's manhood wasn't the only muscle to feel it. His legs readied to run; his hands went into fists so tight that his fingernails made little crescent shaped cuts on the palm of his hands. His toes curled in his sandals. His eyes blinked rapidly. He hissed out from between his teeth and then held his breath in preparation. Stomach muscles taut. Heart pounding… Sam made small keening sounds at the back of this throat… or maybe it was even deeper down than that. He saw Floyd look at him and give him a small nod. He saw something which looked like oil drift behind Floyd's dark eyes and then he saw Floyd blink it away again and give Sam the smallest of smiles.

Floyd could see that Sam was tensed up ready. Whether it was going to be fight or flight, Sam didn't know and now Floyd wasn't so sure either. The over head light flickered and then went out. The television made a low crackling sound and a fuzzy line wiggled across the blank screen for a second. Somewhere further back in the house something fell over or maybe exploded. A lamp maybe. There was a crack, crack, crack, and then the shattering of hundreds of tiles. Sam could hear that it was coming from the kitchen.

Thudding of knives flying and smacking into walls. The clatter of pans and spoons and forks…

A whimper from Mrs Teevy.

'You are sitting there witnessing my rage because Sam needed the answer to something.' He told her quietly. 'I don't think Sam is going to be able to talk right now. So I'm hoping that you know what the question was, because if you don't then we're going to have a problem. So Mrs Teevy, do you know what the question was? We will start there and then move on in easy stages. Don't want to make things over complicated.'

Buzz… crackle… rattle… _thunk_ – smash.

'He wanted to know if Mr Teevy and I paid money to the adoption agency who dealt with us.' She spoke and then looked down at her lap.

Floyd looked at Sam who just about managed to give a small nod. 'Very well. So… he wants the answer.'

Sam thought he caught that oily weirdness behind Floyd's eyes for a second, but maybe it was just the odd flickering yellowish light.

'Twenty five thousand dollars.' She whispered.

Sam howled like a dog. A long whooping cry of a howl which sounded like all of the dog demons from Hades were crying with him.

Floyd stood up. 'Twenty five thousand? Don't seem so disappointed Sam. That's a considerable amount. Unless she was talking Canadian dollars? No? Well see that's nothing to be ashamed of. Now… part two of this discourse is going to involve your death. I'd like to know if you want to die by my hands of Sam's.'

Sam made an odd barking screech and Floyd looked up and smiled.

'The lad wants you. I'll wait outside. Take comfort that he's going to be a helluva lot more gentle and compassionate with you than I would have been. I'd have ripped out your internal wibbly bits and pinned them to the stair rail. Go for it Sam… she's all yours.' Floyd stood. Stretched, licked his lips and belched. 'I'm too full to eat now anyway.'

o-o-o

Sam felt a dizzy delight in what he did. He felt loved and nurtured.

Maybe Mrs Teevy wasn't enjoying being suckled by a sixteen year old boy, but she didn't stop him. She sat in the chair and made little moaning noises of terror and disgust, which Sam let his brain think was love and delight. Of course Sam wasn't able to suckle properly. Mrs Teevy didn't have milk, but the experience for Sam was still one which made his heart swell with love.

Not so much love that he didn't follow up the nursing with some ripping and throat tearing. He kissed the woman goodbye and licked a line of happy bloody drool down he cleavage and then left. He stood and looked at Floyd who was sitting waiting in the car and then with a wave and a smile run over and jumped over the side of the door and into the passenger seat without bothering to open the door. The car externally was battered, scratched, dented and smeared with many unknown substances but internally it was spotless (apart from the green ooze still on the back seat.)

'A bit more respect for someone else's property would be expected.' Floyd told Sam. 'But I've no time to lecture you now. We need to be getting away from here quick smart.' Floyd revved the engine and flew out of the driveway just as the building began to swell and as Sam looked back at it with curiosity he would have sworn that the place seemed to be breathing. At least for a little while… It wasn't quite the same as when Sam had been blasted out of the window at the other place, but it was similar enough. Again no flames, but this time rather then exploding outwards the building seemed to cave in on it self with a brain cracking implosion which over the course of the following months of investigation no one would be able to explain. The car rattled and groaned down the road at speeds even this beauty wasn't made for. It made Sam's teeth jiggle together and once when they bumped over a dead animal in the road Sam's teeth cracked together making him bite his tongue. He didn't complain though. He'd never complain about Floyd again. He'd come back. He'd rescued him. He'd allowed him to do the kill. Sam was feeling the love all over again.

'Nice car.' Sam finally said.

'It's fucking awesome, but don't tell Spencer I told you that. I love bikes… whoah! What the fuck was that in the road?'

'A pedestrian.' Sam laughed as something bounced off the bonnet.

'Fuck! What a fucking stupid place to be walking. As I was saying… I love bikes, but there's three of us and a bike and side car just wont do the trick. Vans are good cos you can sleep in the back, but don't run like this thing. I'll keep this. I like it. It will do us. What's that face for you're pulling?'

'Spencer.' Sam said sulkily. 'Does he _have_ to come with us? Where are we going to go anyway?'

'Yes Spencer is coming with us! I know he smashed your face in, but that was a while ago. Get over it will you? I'll cut that shit off your face later and see if I can do something to fix it. Please tell me that wasn't another fucking jogger?'

o-o-o

Reid had awoken.

It was as though he'd woken from a nightmare and slipped back into life as it always was… another nightmare. The way he was tied up was Floyd's favourite way to keep him in place if he was going away for a while. Spencer just hoped that it wasn't for too long. His arms and legs hurt as the muscles screamed for release. His head pounded like he'd been hit with a bottle and his ribs ached. He would really have liked to have licked his lips but Floyd had gagged him, not too tightly he noted, but enough to stop him from shouting out in his sleep.

If you could call where he'd been as sleep.

He wriggled around on the floor looking at dust bunnies under the beds until he managed somehow to get so his chin was wedged on the edge of the bed. Spencer didn't know what to do next though. He couldn't get further onto the bed and he didn't want to be back on the floor, so he took a deep breath in through his nose and stayed where he was with his arms and legs bent back and in impossible positions. This was where Spencer was when Floyd bounced happily back into the room.

Spencer's eyes went wide. Floyd was wearing black jeans and a white shirt. Except that shirt wasn't very white any more. Reid made some muffled alarmed sounds and Floyd just smiled.

'I've got Sam.' He announced. 'He's getting some tape to… er… never mind… He will be here soon. Let me untie you my sweet. You look all hot and bothered.' Floyd moved in quickly and tugged at the bindings which just popped apart allowing Spencer to moan in delight as blood flowed again to his hands and feet. It was a painful delight… but it felt so damned good that Spencer wasn't going to complain. He pulled the gag from his mouth and gave Floyd a weak smile.

'You should trust me.' Spencer told Floyd.

'I know I should babes. I really should… and I do! I do! I trust that you'll go running back to Hotchner! See how much trust I have in you? I loved living in the slammer babes, but not so much that I want to go back again already.'

Spencer really had no place to argue. Or at least that's how he felt. There was a small shelf in the corner of the room with a kettle and some powdered coffee. Floyd went there and started to heat water and Spencer sat on the bed, rubbed at his feet and looked out of the open door wondering where Sam was. 'So why does Sam need tape?' Spencer asked as Floyd tipped cheap coffee granules into a white mug.

'Front fender… Fell off. It'll be fine.'

'Oh dear god. What have you done to the car? Actually what have you done? Where did all that blood come from?'

Floyd stood looking at the kettle which was taking its time to boil water and walked back over to Reid. 'Blood loss. A great deal of it. If I could have bet money on it, I would say much more than a person should have in them. It went everywhere. Not seen that much before, not from just the one person. And before you start preaching at me Spencer and before you start to wonder, I've not touched Hotchner. It was Teevy. I bit his balls off then ripped out his eyeballs. There was a lot of blood loss. But when you see what he did to Sam, then you'll understand. How's the arm?'

'It feels burnt.'

'Cos it is.'

'Oh.' Spencer looked down at his lap. 'So you wrecked the hire car, killed Mr Teevy and brought Sam back. What other exciting things have I missed?'

At this point Sam walked to the door. He threw a roll red of tape in Floyd's direction and stood leaning on the door frame. 'Why don't you mind your own fucking business you bastard.' Sam snapped at Spencer.

Not the greatest of reunions but it would have to do for now. Floyd dragged a howling Sam into room 15 by his face brace and whirled him around to face Spencer. Sam's hands were over the top of Floyd's trying to wrench his fingers off. 'You're hurting me!' Sam was wailing.

'Well look there at Spencer and blame him… then look into yourself and think about what you asked for.' Of course none of this was Floyd's fault. 'And you two are going to get along and you're going to be nice to each other. Spencer didn't know it was you he was killing even though he was looking at your face when he did it. Cant really explain the logic in that, but there you go. Wasn't his fault so grow up you snivelling little brat and live with the fact that your attitude got you killed.'

'Actually it wasn't.'

Shaking Sam by the thing holding his jaw in place wasn't the nicest thing Floyd could have done and after the second shake Spencer moved over and placed his hand gently on Floyd's arm. 'Stop it. Just stop.'

Floyd let go of Sam and turned to Spencer. 'I'm tired and sated. I need to digest what I've eaten. I need to digest information. I have to…' He looked at Sam who was sitting on the floor and then at Spencer who was backing away from Floyd slowly. 'I need a bath and some clean clothes. No one is to leave the room. If someone leaves I will come after you and do to you what I did to Teevy and if you doubt what I did then you'd best have a look in the glove compartment when you're running for your life past the car. _My_ car. You two need to sit and talk. No shouting. Talking. Speak in quiet tones and use polite words. Sam I'm not going to be able to get that off with a hacksaw so tomorrow we will go and get it removed at the hospital. Now we are all friends? Can I leave you two whilst I get this blood off me and at least try to look like a human again?'

Spencer nodded. Sam frowned and then nodded.

'But only cos you've told me too,_ and_ threatened me.' Sam let Floyd know. 'Not because I _want_ to and any words or apologies said under duress don't count. Just sayin'.'


	36. Chapter 36

36

The kettle water finally boiled and Spencer made three mugs of weak light brown coffee. Floyd took his to the bathroom. Sam sniffed his then left it and Spencer slowly sipped on his as the pair of them talked.

It was Spencer who started talking. Sam remained sitting on the floor, but now pressed his back against the wall as though testing it to see if it would swallow him up. 'I never intentionally set out to hurt you. In actuality I made a promise to myself that I would protect you from Floyd. I did my best Sam, but you really don't make it easy.'

'Don't need your protection.'

'I admit that I attacked you and I did something so horrific that I'll have nightmares for a long time over it…'

'You'll only have nightmares cos you pissed Floyd off.'

Spencer sighed. Liking Sam just was not possible. Sam was a nasty vindictive individual and from where he was sitting now he could understand how he'd snapped and battered Sam the way he had. What was more surprising was that it hadn't been done more often.

'Not only because of that. I didn't _piss_ Floyd off so much as hurt him.'

Sam now leaned forward so that he was kneeling and had the palm of his hands on the floor. 'So Spencer, what did you do with my remains? I looked for them every fucking where. I know that they're out there somewhere, but I dug all over the sodding place until I had blisters on my blisters and found nothing. So what did you do with them? Throw them in the bin?'

Although Sam was beginning to look alarmingly canine as he swayed slowly from side to side, Spencer remained calm. 'Floyd requested that I bury you far and deep.'

'Burial at sea?'

'I know that you don't like fire.' Sam nodded… Spencer was sure Sam was drooling too. 'I know that you cant swim. Cremation and water burial were out of the question. I considered it deeply Sam. I treated you with all the respect I could. Can I tell you a little story? You'll understand why when I've finished.' Sam nodded but didn't say anything. His tongue hurt from where he'd bitten it and the whole of his lower face felt as though it was swelling. 'Many years ago when I was around fourteen years old, something happened to my mother.'

'She's bonkers.' Sam whispered.

'My mother has problems but that's not the point. She was put into hospital for a while and because I was still young I was told that I had to go live with a foster family for a few days. I didn't want to. I really didn't want to do that. I liked my home comforts and familiar smells. There was a really nice social worker who took me to this house which wasn't really too far from where I was brought up, but far enough for it to be a tiring walk… but never the less, as soon as the social worker had left I went out of the back door, through the yard and like many lads of that age, thinking I knew what I was doing I was off over the scrubs thinking I was heading for home. I was wrong though. I was walking in the wrong direction. I was scared and alone and lost.'

'Well my heart bleeds for you, truly it does. What's your fucked up childhood got to do with where you buried me?'

'I'm coming to that. Wait… I took cover at night under this rocky ledge. There were creatures out there in the desert. I could here them yapping and calling to each other. I was too afraid to sleep. I had no water left. I had no food. The sun was blazing down on my head and my neck and arms were burnt, my face too. There was nothing for miles around except some dust cloud way off in the distance. A long way off. I thought it was the way the desert winds pick up.' Spencer made a circling movement with his finger. 'You know what I mean? You've seen that out there?' Sam nodded so Spencer carried on. 'Well that dust cloud got closer and closer and as it finally got close enough I realised that it wasn't the wind doing it but Floyd on a big old dirt bike. He told me to get on the back and he gave me a small drink of water and a hat. He even gave me some sun lotion to rub in, but it was really too late by that point. So I thought he was going to take me home again and tell me what an idiot I was. It wasn't the first time I'd run off and not the first time Floyd had found me. But he didn't take me home. Out there in the middle of nowhere is somewhere really awesome.' Spencer paused for effect, but Sam was looking bored. 'There is a small gully. So small we had to leave the bike behind. When the wind is in the right direction it will virtually fill that small area up with sand and grit. Hideously dangerous place, but today it was clear. Floyd led me down this small crack in the rocks until we reached a fork in the path… forking paths, not an eating fork.' Sam raised his eyes up to the heavens. 'OK, well there was one much like the one we were already walking down and a smaller one which dipped downwards. Only a fool would have gone that way as it was so obviously a dead end, but Floyd walked down there and stood and waited for me. At the bottom of that tiny gully which I could only just fit down was a boulder and behind that boulder was a small metal door.'

'Sure there was. And fairies dancing in the moonlight.'

Spencer carried on. 'It had a green blinking light over it. Floyd pressed a button and the door slid downwards into the ground and there was a tiny room. Floyd told me to step into it. So I did. I was fascinated by this thing. Floyd followed and the door closed and the room dropped down.'

'An elevator in the middle of the desert? Right. You had sunstroke you fool.'

'I don't know how far down it goes, but it was some kind of bunker. There was a long corridor with doors on each side and a big room at the bottom. There were bedrooms, a kitchen, storage rooms, even an armoury of sorts, but it was mostly empty. There was everything there someone would need if they had to escape from upside. A fall out shelter of types, but very advanced. Well there was a special room there. Shelves along the walls and tiny doors and drawers. It was a burial chamber. There were no bones there but it was obvious what it was meant for. So when I was given your remains I went back there.'

'No… hang on one damned moment. You've not told me what happened when you were there. Did you sleep there? Did you let Floyd fuck you there? Was there anyone else there? Did you eat shit and stuff? How long did you stay for? How did Floyd know about it? How many rooms? What happened when you went home again? Were you in trouble? How long was your mother in hospital for?'

Spencer nodded. 'OK… We did sleep there. For nearly a week. There were games consoles which we messed around on for a while, a television, but the picture was very grainy… books which we read to each other. We did eat and there was fresh water to drink. I think Floyd knew about it because I _think_ that he had something to do with building it. There were three bedchambers. I was in a lot of trouble when I got home. They wanted to know where I'd been and I wouldn't tell them. I just said I'd been with a friend and didn't want to get him involved. Floyd at that stage in our friendship was careful. We touched.' Spencer paused and rubbed at his eyes. 'We kissed. I was fourteen Sam… not an experienced lad like you, not very worldly at all, except for the occasional glimpse into other things Floyd would show me. I was in trouble. Mother was in hospital for only three days and she was worried sick for a few hours and then I guess she forgot I was missing and thought I was at school. It's how it was.'

'OK… so back to me then.' Sam then sneezed onto the floor between his hands.

'I took your remains back to that place. I took them and placed them carefully on one of the shelves and then I wrote your name on some paper and rested that with you. It was the deepest place I could think of. The safest place I couldn't think of.'

'So you laid me to rest in Floyd's secret fuck hideout? What name did you write on it?'

'Well you know where they are now and I wrote Sam Trent-Saviour.'

'OK and Yeah… I thought you'd just chucked me with the trash. I thought you'd thrown me out.'

Spencer smiled and shook his head. 'No… no Sam. I suppose you could ask Floyd to take you there?'

'Take him where?' A dripping Floyd spoke from the bathroom door.

'To your hideout in the desert.' Sam smirked.

Floyd gave Spencer a very long look and then took in how Sam was kneeling on the floor, now with his head down and swinging his head back and forth. There was a slither of drool which broke away from Sam's mouth and dropped to the floor. If Floyd didn't know better he would have thought that Sam was going through some sort of change… like a lycanthrope.

'Sam, look at me.' Floyd spoke in a voice which he didn't expect to be ignored. Floyd didn't move though. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a towel around his middle and there was the place he intended to stay, at least for now.

Sam slowly lifted his head. Hair hung down in front of his face and Floyd could see now a trickle of blood coming from the corner of Sam's mouth. His lower face looked pale and sweaty and somehow wrong? Sam let out a long hissing sound from between clenched teeth, shook his hair off his face and looked over at Spencer with narrowed eyes.

'Look at _me!'_ Floyd commanded.

Sam's head snapped around and Floyd heard slight _crack_ sound of Sam's neck and saw the wince of Sam's face. 'Stop that crap right now! You're creeping Spencer out. Sit up and wipe that drool off your face you fucking idiot. And what's wrong with your face?'

'I cant stop drooling! You've done something to my brace. Pulled it out of line or something. Cant bite down properly and it hurts like a son of a bitch. It's not my fault! It was Spencer's. He did it. He clobbered me and mashed me. If you want…'

'I'm getting dressed. I wish that you two will continue your bonding and Spencer will have a look and see if he can help.' Floyd backed out of the room and back into the bathroom causing Sam to give Spencer a look of deep curiosity.

'Did I creep you out?' Sam got to his feet as Spencer nodded. 'Can you see if you can pull that back round again?' He presented Spencer with the brace. 'Why was Floyd acting funny do you think? It was like he was hiding something or was scared of something.'

Spencer shook his head. 'I cant help you with this without causing further damage. You need hospital.' Spencer pulled a tissue out of a box on the night stand and handed it to Sam who jumped back away from it as though it was diseased.

'A tissue? From your spunk wiping box? Fuck off! I'll use my sleeve thank you very much. Shit Spencer, that's like offering someone a used condom! And what's Floyd up to? What's he hiding from us and why has he never taken me to his secret hide out before. Oh yeah – and when you went back to it did it look like someone had been there?'

'No.' Floyd snapped. Now back in a clean shirt with a dark waistcoat over the top and a pair of black jeans.

Sam and Spencer both frowned at him, but it was Spencer who asked the question. 'Where did you get those clothes from? You came out of gaol with what you were wearing and a cigarette lighter.'

Floyd pulled the lighter out of his pocket. 'Oh babes… it's not _just_ a cigarette lighter.' So that explained everything. 'And he'd not have seen traces that someone had been there Sam, because I tidy up after me. I'm not a fucking slob like the pair of you two are.'

'So you've been back?'

Floyd didn't respond.

'Can you take me to hospital and get this off my face before it does horrific things to my nerves.'

'Horrific things to your nerves? Like the pair of you do to me? Go wash that mess off your face, then we shall rest up and then when the light is new again and another day has started we will take you to the hospital and get you sorted. For now I need you to rest. I need to rest. I used up a shit load of energy and I'd appreciate it if you let me just close my eyes and have maybe twelve hours to hibernate and recharge. Spencer my love, use the phone there my sweets and call the car rental people and let them know you'll have the car for a while longer.' Floyd then sat down on the floor and with his back tight against the wall he slid sideways into something a bit deeper than a sleep yet not as deep as a coma.

'He's knackered. You should have seen the fireworks at the ranch. I've not seen Floyd quite that full of shit before. I bet he's never been that angry when he's killing someone for you! HA! That's because…'

'Go to the bathroom and wash your face.' Spencer snapped as he picked up the telephone to make that call. But he didn't take his eyes off Floyd. Spencer was sure that the man was hiding something. And he had every intention of finding out what it was. He was almost certain it had something to do with Floyd's back. Once he was sure that Floyd was so far into his recharging process that he couldn't stop him, Spencer was going to get Sam's help in finding out exactly what it was Floyd didn't want them to see.

When Sam returned from the bathroom with a slightly fresher looking, but still swollen face, Spencer had made his call and turned on the television. He had it on a Home Shopping channel, but wasn't watching it. He still had his eyes fixed on Floyd. He motioned Sam to come over and for a few minutes they both sat looking at Floyd.

It would be the perfect chance to escape.

Except neither of them felt like captives.

Both were under the foolish impression that they were there because they wanted to be.

'We need to look at his back.' Spencer whispered across the side of Sam's face.

Sam waved a hand in front of Spencer. 'Your breath stinks. But yeah. I'm thinking _nubs_. What about you?'

'Nubs?'

'I think he's got vestigial wings or something. He had so much – I don't know how to describe it – power? Power flowing through him. Never seen it quite like that before. I've seen him enraged but not firing off like that.'

'Nubs?' Spencer repeated.

'_Yeah_.' Sam said in awe.

'You're crazy.' Spencer informed Sam. 'However we still should look.' A soft but conspiratorial tone.

Sam leaned in and spoke softly in Spencer's ear. 'You're not fooling me with your soft voice and friendly innocent eyes.' He then stood from the bed and walked slowly over to Floyd. He stood and looked over his shoulder at Spencer and nodded towards Floyd.

They knelt next to him trying to work out how to do this. Spencer indicated that they had to roll him onto his front, and Sam motioned pulling up Floyd's shirt at the back. Spencer gave him a nod and they both reached out carefully to gently – oh so very gently – roll him onto his front.

'Touch me or my clothing and I'll eat both your damned faces off. Go away.' Floyd growled at them.

Sam yelped and jumped back out of the way quick as a cat, but Spencer stayed where he was with his hand in mid grab. 'Can we just look? Make sure everything is OK?'

Floyd snapped his teeth together. 'Don't make me tie both of you up. No you may _not_ look. Disturb me again and I'll fucking well teach you why you two should listen to me and not think you have ideas of your own.'

'And when will I get my face fixed, and get my eye glasses?' Sam moaned.

'Never. Wont need to if you're a pile of maggoty intestines draped over the table lamp. Now shut the fuck up. Turn off the damned television and sleep or something.' Floyd then wrapped his arms around his head and pushed back hard against the wall, giving Sam even more reason to suspect that Floyd was growing something back there which he didn't want them to know about. Sam grabbed Spencer by the hand and said in a voice which Floyd would have been able to hear…

'Smoke? Out there in the daylight – whilst the vampire sleeps?'

'Fuck you.' Floyd muttered but didn't object as the pair of them left the room and sat on the board walkway outside. Spencer gently and as quietly as he could closed the door behind them, making sure that they could get back in again.

o-o-o

Sam had something important to say. Spencer could see that much by the way he was fidgeting and the way he was actually willing to talk to him. They sat together and Sam put a pack of smokes on the boards between them. They sat with legs dangling over the edge of the ledge and shoulders resting on the blue painted railings.

'Now I'm not sure about this.' Sam lit up using a red tipped match which he scratched alight on the bottom of his sandal. 'But if I'm right then we're either going to die real soon or we are going to live forever.'

Spencer nodded. 'Well what's new?'

'He is.' Sam jabbed towards the door Floyd was behind with the cigarette. 'He was so full of that energy back at the house that the place was exploding around our ears. It was pure magic. Cant explain it any other way. Now if I am right, and if what is happening is actually happening and I think it really fucking well is, then we are either the luckiest bastards alive or the most unfortunate.'

'Again, that is how it always is when around Floyd. Not that I'd change anything.' Now Spencer too pulled a smoke from the white and red pack.

'Well here's the thing. I know that I'm not back here unless Floyd wanted me back. I'd still be up there kneeling in shit and piss and begging those cunts to send me back. I had a list of stuff I wanted and I guess in a way I got what I asked for, cos I was none to careful in my wording and you really do have to be oh so very careful how you word something. But anyway, I'd not be back if Floyd hadn't requested me back again.' Spencer's eyes narrowed at this thought but he said nothing as he picked up the book of matches Sam had put next to the cigarettes and lit up. 'So if he went back what did he ask for? What did he go back for?'

'To request that they sent you back again, I would assume.' Spencer told Sam.

'Stop trying to make it look like you give a shit. Thing is… what the hell did he ask for and what did they give him?'

Spencer nodded and turned to look at the door. 'He lost you. He was more than a bit angry with me. But I was physically able to be found again. You weren't. Again I'm going to assume that he went back to request your return.'

'You think he doesn't have needs?'

'I know he has needs, but I think that losing you the way he did was all consuming.'

'Oh my fucking god! You think I'm going to believe that? You're a bigger fool that me… I mean than _him_… if you think that. I'm not going to. He went back for something else and got me as an added bonus. A _bonus_ not something to drag him down. He wants me. Really badly wants me. More than he wants you.' Sam paused. 'Were you breast fed?' A long drag from the smoke. 'Anyway, what if he asked for his wings back and was actually granted them? Well not the wings as such but the power that goes along with them? What if he's been promoted?'

Spencer drew his knees up close and wriggled around so that his side was against the railings. 'I don't know what you're talking about. I don't understand the politics or the structure of the place you come from.'

'If he's been promoted… you see? If he has, then I've been upgraded. Didn't he say originally ages ago that he'd been upgraded?'

'I think he was promptly downgraded again when they realised their mistake.'

'OK… you don't believe me then think of this. Why are we here? I mean here on the outskirts of Vegas, in this fucking piss hole of a joint where I know full well Floyd is miserable. Why are you here? Why was I here? Why is that little place you know of here? What's with this fucking horrible hot place that's drawn us here? I started out in a different state. I was moved here when the other place blew up. But I could have gone to anywhere in the damned world, but it was to here… just down the pissing road from where you were brought up. Why is that?'

Spencer shrugged. 'I've never really thought about it. I actually like it here. I can understand why someone would want to live here.'

'Yes but you're brain addled from all the sun on your head. You're not thinking right, cos I don't like it here and Floyd don't like it here so why are we here?'

Again Spencer shrugged. 'Maybe because Floyd has nubs.'

'Are you being sarcastic? Cos if you were it wasn't very fucking funny, but then you're not known for being the worlds best funny man are you? Best leave it to those who are.' Sam stubbed out his smoke. 'I want to see that place you spoke of. Can you take me there?'

'I'm here because I was raised here. I came home. My mother is here. Floyd joined me here because of that reason.'

Sam now stood. 'Don't fucking fool yourself Spencer. He's here because of a better more important reason than _you_. Primarily he's here because of me. So fuck you! What the question was though was, _why_?'

'What day is it?' Spencer was pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Sam told him it was Friday and Spencer nodded. 'Thought so. Can I leave you here for about ten minutes?'

'No. Where are you going? I'll come with you. I don't want to you out of my sight. I think you're a tricky bastard and I don't trust you, but that might be because you battered my noggin in and I've not forgotten, or forgiven. I'll get you back for that. It hurt. It bloody well hurt! And now this thing hurts too. Does it look swollen to you?'

Spencer slipped the wallet back into his pocket, gave Sam a proper good look and nodded. 'Are you sure you want to come with me? I don't want you losing your temper if people stare are you, because it wont be for your good looks. You're face is swollen, yes and the skin is colouring. It's going to end up one big ugly bruise.' Oh that felt good. It felt spiteful and that _shouldn't_ feel good, but the look of horror on Sam's face was worth it. He would beg his imaginary god for forgiveness at a later date. For now it was going to keep Sam away from public glare and allow Spencer to go shopping alone. He didn't think he was in the mood for Sam trailing behind him moaning and bitching about everything he could think of. 'Just stay here. Make sure no one disturbs Floyd. I wont be long.'

Sam sat back down and rested his head on his knees, but he didn't moan or complain. Just this once. Maybe his brace had slipped and finally strangled him.

Another apology Spencer was going to have to make to something or someone.

As he walked down the steps to the area below he muttered under his breath… 'Nubs, indeed.' Shook his head and walked to the small corner shop which was luckily closer that the take out place where the smell of onions and boiled meat seemed to be wafting from. Spencer's stomach hitched with revulsion as he slipped into the tiny shop which sold everything from weird spices from unknown lands and mops for the kitchen floor.

o-o-o

Spencer brought back a bag of things which he took into the room with a curious Sam in his wake. He produced a slightly better quality coffee from the bag but as there was no way to make a real good coffee, once again it was coffee granules, but certainly better than the stuff which was provided with the room. He handed Sam a carton of strawberry milkshake with a straw attached and though Sam pulled a face at it and didn't say 'Thank you' he still drank it all. They then sat in silence and waited.

And waited.

Spencer checked that Floyd hadn't died and on seeing a twitch of one of his fingers, moved back out of the way again quickly. He didn't want to be so close if Floyd woke up grumpy; which was more than likely. Spencer also noted that Sam was repeatedly rubbing at his good eye, but when asked what was wrong, got no reply. It was going to be a long night, and one which Spencer didn't want to fall asleep during. He didn't trust Sam.

Sam trusted Spencer as far as he could spit, but he still eventually curled up on the bed with pillows adjusted around the side of his face so that nothing was digging in.

There was no clock in the room and Spencer didn't have his watch on and so the only sign that time was passing was when light gradually began to seep through the curtains again. He had a shower, cleaned his teeth and then walked back into the main room to see Floyd sitting up, cracking his knuckles. He wanted coffee. Spencer made him some and apologised for the poor quality, but Floyd didn't seem to mind. Spencer picked up the bag of things and sat on the floor in front of Floyd, placing it between them.

'Yesterday was Friday.' Spencer informed him. Floyd blinked but said nothing. 'I didn't know which to get.' He pushed the bag over to Floyd as the bed behind him creaked and Sam muttered some oaths. Floyd's eyes darted over to Sam and a deep frown set on his face. He still didn't speak. As Sam sat down next to Spencer, Floyd delved into the bag and took out the contents.

'Jello? That's what you went to the store for? You brought jello? Lots of jello? Different types of it? What the fuck for?' Sam asked. 'Only real cunts, kids and old ladies eat that shit.' Again Sam got a frown from Floyd, but Spencer received a grin.

'Jello. Especially for real cunts. You went and got this for me?' Floyd's voice sounded rough; like he'd spent the night throwing up or chain-smoking. 'It's Saturday. Green. Lime I think.' He picked up the small transparent pot of green jello. 'Thank you Spence. Sam what the in the name of fuck in hades has happened to your face?'

'You eat that shit?' Sam watched as Floyd peeled back the lid and dipped his fingers in. He ignored the little plastic spoon glued to the side of the pot.

'Yes I eat this shit.' Floyd replied. 'Because I'm a _real cunt_ apparently. Which are words you might regret later. We need to get you to a hospital though. And then things to do, places to go, but I'm not taking you anywhere looking like a fucking gargoyle.' Maybe the words were a bit harsh as it had been Floyd shaking Sam by the brace which had caused the swelling and now the fine lot of bruising coming up around his jaw line. Sam snatched up the paper bag the things had been in and put it over his head.

'I wish I was dead.' Sam moaned.

'I think Spencer can help you out there.' Floyd smirked back. His mood was a lot lighter than Spencer had been expecting. Maybe it was the jello which put Floyd in such a happy mood. The reasons didn't matter. The fact that he'd not attacked either of them was more important. Floyd reached over and pulled the bag off Sam's head. 'Don't cover it up Sam. I need a laugh.'

Sam moved back away and with a… 'Fuck you arsehole,' and went to the bathroom where both Floyd and Spencer could hear rather dramatic sobbing.

Now that they were alone Spencer spoke quietly to Floyd. 'This might not be the best time to ask…'

'No it's not, but I figure you're going to ask it anyway… go ahead, what's bothering you?'

'Is there something wrong with your back? Sam thinks that you're growing wings or something.'

There was a moment of silence… a long sigh… 'Wings… He's such a fucking stupid shit. No babes, I'm not growing wings. There's just something I don't wish to share with Sam. Later. I'll show you later, because it will explain this wondrous idea I've had which involves you. Sam will get insanely jealous though and it's not worth upsetting the little maggot further than he already is. Now… you sort the car?'

'That was another thing I wanted to talk to you about. The car… if you can call it that – is a wreck.'

'It's just a car Spence. We can get another one, a newer one, a shiny one! A perfect one.'

'Not the point Floyd, it's not my car and they're going to freak when I take it back.'

Floyd shrugged. 'Cross that bridge when we get to it… Now tell me, what other insane ideas has Sam had?'

Spencer told him about the Vegas thing and again Floyd just shrugged. 'Everything has a place where…' He looked thoughtful for a minute and then carried on. '… a place where things begin and things end. It's like a giant wheel which we all jump on and take the ride, but that ride has to start somewhere, the ticket office has to be somewhere doesn't it? Then the wheel stops turning and there you are back where you began. You start off as nothing and then…' He clicked his fingers. '… dust. Nothing. Well that's unless you have the reincarnation theory running in your head, but even then you always end up in the same place. It's like a building up of power.' Spencer had no idea what Floyd was talking about and told him so. 'OK… you of so little imagination… You began life here and you will end life here.'

'So…'

'Yup… _so_… easy answer to complicated question. OK… imagine if you will, that you pick up a book and you read the first couple of chapters, then you chuck it in your bag and travel to another world, I mean another place… then you open the book and read again… it will carry on from where you left off. It's not going to change because you're not longer in the same city, country, hemisphere or whatever. The story will remain the same, enclosed between the cover of the book. That's what life is Spencer. Your life is already mapped out for you. I cant change it. Sam certainly cant change it and you cant do anything about it either. Chapter fifteen, Doctor Spencer Reid, the beautiful and oh so fuckable FBI agent is shot whilst on duty. BANG! Bullet to the brain. Now you could say that it wont happen… you've skipped forwards and seen spoilers and you know what's going to happen, so you take a blade to your wrist in chapter twelve and you pre-empt the story and attempt to take your life before someone can do it for you, but what happens is you just hang onto life for a few more chapters and you'll still die in chapter fifteen. Or you can call in sick that day but there will be a knock on the door and some fuck will be there with a pizza and a .45 and you'll still be dead. You cant avoid it. It's written there. And if you go back and look carefully you will see that actually chapter twelve has that suicide attempt there anyway. It's a good thing you cant read what's going to happen. You will go bonkers. Believe me. It's no fun. Vegas is the pages of the book Spencer. Everything started at the beginning and will end at the end – in Vegas. Do you think it would be really wrong of me to eat yesterday's pink jello?'

'What chapter are we on Floyd?'

'Oh sweet thing! Don't look so worried. We're still wading through the shit about the author at the beginning. Our story's not even fucking started yet! Not for real it hasn't. We have an eternity together. I'm here to keep you safe. Haven't I always kept you safe? Don't I protect you from things? Even from way back? Came to your rescue when you wandered down desert roads with snot on your top lip and tears running down your face? Haven't I always stepped in? Hell I just did two years in the slammer to keep you safe. I'm your guardian angel Spencer. We're going to have a fucking ball! That is if I don't fuck up. There's always that possibility and the last few chapters get removed or lost somehow.'

'So why are we in Vegas?'

'Ah… yes. We are in Vegas because you were here and you are what life is all about. Therefore The Teevy family had to also be here. Hotchner had to be here… I had to be here. We all had to start out together… feet on the starting line waiting for the starters pistol to go off and set us on our way. Now are you less confused?'

Spencer blinked. 'Oh very much so. I should point out that from Sam I am learning _sarcasm_.'

'Dangerous.' Floyd smirked.

o-o-o

Sam's sobbing increased. He, for once, wasn't really doing it for sympathy. His face hurt like hell on wheels and it felt hot and around the jaw sort of hard, yet squashy at the same time. Sam sat in front of the toilet and let the sobbing turn into very painful puking.

It was around then at he thought his brain might have exploded. The pain ripped through him knocking him off his well worn knees and onto the bathroom floor, smacking his lower jaw on the toilet rim as he went. Something hot was crawling out of his nose and popping in his ears. His tears were somehow slime filled and sticky, and as he took in a deep breath to let out a howl of pain it seemed that his throat was going to stop him by closing up just enough to prevent that breath from being taken.

Floyd heard the odd noise Sam started to make and stood with his pink jello dripping off his fingers. 'Sam?' He called the name and got no reply. 'What the hell are you doing in there you little pervert?' Floyd licked at his fingers as he walked towards the bathroom. Spencer stayed where he was. It felt as though he'd had a life time of Sam's histrionics and today he was not going to react to it. He was attention seeking. Spencer was very sure of that. He watched Floyd walk into the bathroom and then started to pick up the rubbish left on the floor.

By the time Floyd arrived at Sam's side it was very obvious that something was quite a bit wrong. Sam wasn't in a full out convulsion but he was sprawled out on his back with puss oozing from his nose, ears and the corner of his eyes and shaking so much that his teeth, or something, was rattling. Floyd wanted to shout at him and tell him to get up, but for once he actually thought maybe Sam was in distress and not putting it on. He sat on the floor next to him, pulled him partially onto his lap and rubbed at Sam's chest.

'Spencer!' Floyd shouted through the door. 'Two things… call an ambulance and then call Hotch and let him know we have Sam.'

Floyd heard Spencer jumping to his feet and running to the bathroom door. 'What's going on?' He looked at Sam and then at Floyd and then at Sam again.

'Well fuck if I know. Call the bloody ambulance now!'

'Cant you…? Fix him?'

'Ambulance Spencer… 911… NOW!'

o-o-o

There was a big scene at which Spencer stood back and watched, Floyd shouted abuse at everyone and paramedics stayed calm.

Then Floyd went with Sam in the ambulance (on the condition that he calmed down) and Spencer rattled behind in the rental car. It felt as though the thing was coming apart the further they drove. The flashing emergency lights Spencer was following rushed through the traffic, but at least kept going. Floyd wasn't killing everyone. It was a start.

When Reid arrived at the hospital parking lot he saw Hotchner walking quickly in his direction. He gave the car a once over and then gave Spencer a nod.

'Thank you for letting someone know about Sam. It was assumed he was in the house at the time.'

Now Spencer was confused. 'At what time?'

'At the moment it's still under investigation and I think it will be for a long time yet. They are saying that it was the result of what could only be called _an opening in the ground_ – some type of subsidence. The ground just opened up and swallowed the house. It wont be possible to…'

Spencer nodded. 'I understand. Sam was with us… Floyd… Well anyway, Sam _was_ fine, but something has gone wrong with the brace they attached to keep his jaw in line. Some sort of weird reaction to it.'

'And you called 911 rather than called out for Flanders?' A bitter tone.

'I called 911 because Floyd told me to. I then called _you_ because Floyd told me to.' Spencer paused. 'He knows.' A whisper of a finish to his voice.

Hotch wanted to give Spencer a comforting hug, or maybe a manly pat on the shoulder. Just something to show that he cared, but if Floyd was nearby that was maybe not a good idea. 'Well I'm glad Sam is safe.' Was all Hotch could think of saying. Though in reality they were walking into a hospital emergency room so saying that Sam was 'safe' was maybe premature.


	37. Chapter 37

37

Floyd was pacing.

Staff where giving him a wide berth.

He was smoking, and the shaking white faced woman sitting behind the reception desk didn't look as though she was going to tell him to stop (again).

Spencer walked over to Floyd and gave him a hug, then gestured behind himself. 'Hotch is here. What news on Sam?'

Floyd sighed and gave Spencer a quick kiss on his ear. 'They've taken him away to surgery to remove that fucking thing on his face. They tried to tell me that shaking him by it caused the fucking problem.'

Spencer nodded. 'Well I doubt it helped, but he's going to be OK?'

'I'm a surgeon now? I know how it's going to turn out? He had a face full of fucking puss. They are going to drain him. Asked for a jar of whatever they remove but I don't think that's going to happen. He'll be fine. What does Hotchner want? A quicky behind the bike sheds?'

'He's here to see if Sam is going to be all right.'

Floyd looked over Spencer's shoulder and gave Hotch a dirty look. 'You crossed the line Agent Aaron Hotchner. I'm not going to threaten you because you'll use that as an excuse to arrest me for some fucking reason and lock me away again, but you're a dead man walking. Just sayin'. Oh and if you think the idle threat of prison will upset me, then again you'll be wrong.' Floyd then turned his attention back to Spencer. 'I should have brought Sam in sooner. I'm going to have to perform some pretty drastic measures if he recovers from this not looking like the perfect little angel he's meant to.' He blew smoke into Spencer's face. 'I know he deserves to be in pain and maybe crippled or something, but not his fucking face. That's a crime beyond all measure.' A pause this time as Floyd gave Spencer's face a close inspection. 'Shit babes… if you're not the most gorgeous thing this side of Pluto.' Again he looked over at Hotch. 'Don't you agree Aaron? Isn't Spencer just spectacular? No, no Hotch, you can answer without looking again. Keep your distance old man and don't touch, but this hair… you see I might not have mentioned it to you Spence, but I really don't like it all short and neat and fucking nerdy. You let yourself down so many times.' Again a look at Hotch. 'Private conversation bitch… go get the coffee or empty bins or something useful.' Then back to Spencer again. 'You need to be free babes. Live free. Dress how you damned well want to… you like cords? Then babes you damned well wear them! Just never take Sam's advice on how to dress cos the boy has no clue. I caught him in a bra once. Purple with tissue stuffed inside. So no… dress how you want or you're going to end up in polo shirts and light blue jeans with sneakers… and a nice little bald patch on the back of your head and though I'll still want you more than… well more than something I want a lot, I don't want you turning into some pinched up old fart like Hotchner.'

'He's OK.' Spencer foolishly replied. He didn't like hearing Floyd speak like that about Hotch. 'What I mean is Hotch is how he is comfortable being. But you're right. I know you are… and I absolutely promise you that I'll not wear a purple bra… red maybe, but not purple.' Spencer gave a soft smile as he attempted to pull away from talking about Hotch. 'So when will we know about Sam?'

'Sam… my angel. They said a couple of hours. Where's my fucking coffee!' Floyd shouted down the corridor. 'Why are you bitches standing doing nothing? Get me a damned coffee before I start getting pissed off with you all.'

And so for a short while they sat in silence. That was until a nurse walked by the small room the three of them were asked to sit in. Floyd was up at a jump and chasing after her. Once out of the room Hotch turned to Spencer who was sipping on yet another coffee.

'He seems worried.' Hotch said.

Spencer looked over at Hotch and nodded. 'Why wouldn't he be? He sees Sam as something he can graft onto his own self and become part of him, like some human shaped bauble. He doesn't want that if it's broken.'

'Are you sure that's all it is?'

'I'm sure. It's not just his appearance. Floyd sees Sam as a project. He wants people to look at it and marvel at what a wondrous creature he is.'

Hotch raised an eyebrow. 'There's more to it than that.' He informed Spencer.

Reid stood. He was getting annoyed with Hotch now. He didn't want him here getting in the way. He wanted him to go back to his job and leave him and his friends alone. He wanted Hotch to stop accusing Floyd of doing things he hadn't done. He wanted him to just _leave_, but Hotch looked settled in at least for now. 'It's complicated.' Spencer muttered. That was where the conversation stopped as Floyd came walking back into the room.

'Out of surgery. They're cleaning him up. He's fine.' He didn't look convinced though. 'At least they say he's fine. My idea of fine and theirs might be a mile apart. We shall have to see. They'll call me.' He pointed at Hotch. 'Me… it's me they will call not you. You will have to wait. Don't know what the hell you're doing here anyway. I just wanted you to know that Sam was with us and not the Teevy's and you show up here probably giving out inane advise to Spencer who is one hell of a lot more understanding of any fucking thing than you'll ever be, because Hotch, you're not in the fucking book, or at least as Grand Editor in Chief, I'm going to get you fucking deleted. Metaphorically speaking obviously.'

o-o-o

'He will look pretty bad at first. Don't be too alarmed.'

That had been what the doctor had said to Floyd just before he went into the room.

It wasn't actually _alarm_ that Floyd felt when he looked at Sam, it was more of a… _Well there's no fixing that mess_ sort of a feeling. He walked to the bottom of Sam's bed and checked on the notes clipped on there. He had to be very sure that this was the same Sam he'd been talking to not so long ago; this person who seemed to have the same name as his Sam, looked more grotesque now than before they took the contraption off his face.

'The problem was that the brace had shifted position and not only caused the bones and teeth to misalign but it pulled away some of the plating and allowed for infection to set in. The swelling _will_ go down. He's on a strong…'

'Morphine?' Floyd asked and the doctor nodded. 'Well that's a fucked up idea, but never mind. You know he has a liking for drugs?'

'He is going to be in a lot of pain. We've applied pressure bandages to his face.'

'Yeah… fine. Can I take him home now?'

The doctor raised both eyebrows. 'Home? That isn't possible. He was very dehydrated and is on a drip. We are also worried about his irregular heart beat. He was in distress a few times whilst in surgery. We need to monitor that for a while.'

'I was in distress when he was in surgery too! Stupid mother fucker… of course he was distressed. You've fucked up that beautiful face of his. You've turned him into a fucking monster. He'll never whore again.'

Those raised eyebrows again. 'Excuse me Mr Flanders but are you his parent?'

Floyd shook his head. 'No. But nor am I his pimp. I'm just saying you know? If he wants to make a living selling his arse on street corners and getting into strangers' cars to give them some pleasure in a parking lot, then he's going to have some problems paying his rent… no pun intended there good doctor. However if he wants to spend eternity with a mask on… wait! There's a whoring opportunity after all. I'll gimp him out in leathers. He'll love it…' Floyd leaned over Sam and poked him on the end of the nose. 'What do you think little cock sucker? Want to be my gimp?'

'Mr Flanders?' The doctor had a pale face with bright red roses flushed on each of his slightly sunken cheeks.

'Oh for the love of… of… some famous doctor… It was a joke.'

'Not a very amusing one.' The doc snapped.

'Well it's lucky I'm not opening up a one man show on The Strip then isn't it… you arsewipe. How long before you can let him out of here. He doesn't like hospitals. They pay havoc with his grammar.'

'His grammar?'

'Abso-fucking-lutely. Mine too would seem. Hurry and wake him. I want to take him to my secret hideout in the desert and slice patterns of ownership into my lover's back. Sam's not my lover by the way. Never will be if his face doesn't shrink back to what it should be. Oh and please don't tell Spence out there what I've got planned for him. It's a surprise you see.' Floyd smiled. 'Wake the slut up.'

'Sam… He needs to say resting for at least until this time tomorrow. Then we will reassess the situation and let you know what is going to happen next. There is still a problem that the bones are not repairing as quickly as we would like.'

Floyd nodded. 'This time tomorrow. That's OK. I can wait that long. Don't let him out of your fucking sight. Strap him down and ignore his dog impressions. He cries for sympathy and will blame anything on anyone. He's a liar, thief, and likes to get high. Don't believe him. Not even if he says he's in pain. He's just after shots of morphine… which was why I said about it… or did you say about it? But you look after him and I'll be back. I have twenty four hours to convince my lover that it's me he wants. Wish me luck. Not that I'll need it.' Another flash of a smile.

Hotch stood when Floyd entered the small waiting room again. Spencer remained seated. He wanted to know what mood Floyd was in before he said anything or got too close. The lights flickered and the coffee machine made an odd grumbling noise, but Floyd looked almost relaxed. He ignored Spencer for now and forced himself to look at the one man who Floyd detested almost as much as he loathed Derek Morgan.

'He is swollen but fine. Unless his heart gives out, but they'll sort that. So Agent Aaron Hotchner… you feel like staying here for a while and keeping your beady eye on Sam?'

Hotch gave the very slightest of nods. 'I thought _you_ would stay.' He told Floyd in the way which was meant to make Floyd feel like he _should_ stay.

'Nope. No need. He's asleep. He might make a fuss when he wakes up so really a familiar face might not be amiss, but it wont be mine. I've too much to do.' He now put a hand out towards Spencer. 'We're leaving. Worrying about Sam wont make him get better any quicker and time passes so much faster when you're having fun; you'll agree with that wont you Aaron?'

Again the smallest of nods. 'I'll wait with here.'

'I know you will. You wouldn't abandon poor Sam when he's in so much pain and distress. I on the other hand will. So have a nice evening. They do sandwiches and cookies somewhere I believe. You could take a stroll there and get some, but don't you leave him for too long. I'll be pissed with you if he wakes and you're off some where nibbling on tuna and cucumber sandwiches. I'll be back tomorrow. Don't you fucking even think about taking Sam someplace else. Understood?'

Hotch understood. He was sure that it wasn't going to be him who got hurt if he didn't. He could tell by the almost pleading look on Spencer's face. 'I'll not be going anywhere. As you said, a familiar face.'

'A shame it's such a fucking ugly one, but there you go. Be careful. Don't scare him into heart failure and if I smell that you've touched him, Hotchner, well I think then there's going to be a few fireworks.' As Floyd said the last word the lights in the little room flickered and dimmed. 'Sorry about the lights. I'm having a bit of a problem controlling my… my inner wondrousness.' And as Spencer was still not within reach, Floyd snapped his fingers at him. 'Here, now.'

Spencer felt an odd static shock as his fingers met Floyd's. Instinctively he pulled his hand back again and looked down at his hand. Something was going very wrong here and it seemed to be picking up pace faster than Spencer could keep track of. For now though at least Floyd didn't seem to mind that Spencer hadn't taken his hand. Floyd turned again to Hotch and asked, in a quite polite way that he should sit for a moment. Hotch did as he'd been asked but was more than ready to fight this filth off him if need be. Spencer then watched in horror as Floyd knelt down at Hotch's feet and placed his hands on Hotch's knees.

'Now you listen up and you listen carefully.' Floyd started. 'There are forces in play here. Things I don't have control over and before things settle down and get better again they're going to get one hell of a lot worse. I didn't get Spencer to call you because I was thinking of you. I got him to call you because I was thinking of _me_. Sam, you see is mine, but wandering in the shadows are monsters, Hotch. Sam knows. Spencer knows. I know. You will one day face the truth and admit it too, but I really don't think you're quite ready. What I'm trying to say here Hotch, is that I trust you with Sam. I trust that you will keep him safe. Don't let anyone in to see him. Keep a close eye on hospital staff. If someone if going to try to get Sam, now would be a good time. Protect him with your life Hotchner. Keep Sam safe from those shadows.'

Hotch's face remained expressionless but he gave a tiny nod of the head. 'If it's that important and if the danger is that deep, then wouldn't it be wiser for you to stay?'

Floyd dug fingernails into Hotch's knees hard enough that he'd have bruises there for a couple of weeks. 'I cant stay here doing nothing. I have to check out things. There's no point in sitting guarding a precious diamond if all around you the thieves are sneaking in. You have to send out scouts and check the borders. You get? I know you Hotchner. I know you better than you'd like me to, but for now I'm putting that feeling of starch behind me and trusting that you'll make sure that when I return tomorrow that Sam will still be alive and still be in that hospital bed. I know you have unwanted and unwarranted feelings for Sam. I know. I know it's confusing… but they're there. Keep my boy safe and I might even let you have Spencer for a night.' Now Floyd took his hands off Hotchner and put a hand out for Spencer. 'Take my hand Spence. We need to leave.'

o-o-o

Spencer drove the car this time. He didn't trust Floyd's driving and he didn't trust that he wouldn't short out the circuits either. Spencer had begun to drive back to the motel, but was told that he needed to go to his apartment and pick up some clothes, maybe have a shower, something to eat… Coffee which wouldn't taste like cats piss, so that's where they went. Spencer rattled the wreck of the car into the underground parking and then they went in odd silence up to his apartment. It didn't feel as though he'd been there for years and he wasn't sure if it was the joy of bringing Floyd to his own space again or if it was that odd feeling he got whenever he touched Floyd which was making the hair stand up on his arms.

It was Floyd who reset the alarm once they were in. It was Floyd who checked the locks on the windows whilst Spencer put coffee on. It was Floyd who opened up the closet and had a look inside.

And it was Floyd who pushed Spencer up against the wall in the hallway and pushed his hip hard against Spencer.

'I've something…' Floyd started to say as he licked and nibbled Spencer's neck, '… to show you.'

'Hmm.' Was all Spencer could say.

'Oh not that.' Floyd said as fingers began to undo Spencer's shirt buttons. 'Something else and I'm going to show you this on the strict understanding that you'll never _ever_ say anything to Sam about it.' Fingers were now down at Spencer's belt. 'But I'm going to have to take my shirt off to show you.'

This caused a raising of an eyebrow for Spencer. 'Floyd if there is something going on…'

'Nothing, but if Sam wished to believe that, then maybe all the better. Easier to keep the little bastard in line if he's scared of me. That's how it works. At least that's how it should work.' Floyd then moved back and unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt. 'Now… I'm going to show you what is on my back. Laugh if you want but if you do there will be serious repercussions.'

'You don't have to. Floyd really…'

'You risked trying to touch me when you thought I'd not know because your curiosity was so immense, so don't tell me that I don't need to show you, because I feel I do. Once you've seen, you will understand some of what will happen later. I hope that you will be more understanding of the pain you will have to suffer because of it. Don't look so alarmed Spence. It wont hurt for long and I don't have it in mind to kill you. I just… Well have a look.'

Floyd turned around and showed Spencer his back. At first Reid wasn't sure exactly what it was he was looking at. On one of Floyd's shoulder blades was what appeared to be a very old tattoo. Yet it couldn't be _that_ old as he'd have noticed it before. 'Property of…' He didn't finish what he was saying though. Floyd turned around again and took both of Spencer's hands.

'Prison tat. Not very well done but fading fast. My body rejects skin art. A shame. But maybe not a shame in this case. Give it another year and it will be completely gone. No I didn't know they'd done it. No I don't know how they did it without my knowledge. The person in question is now dead and so I am free. I don't ever become a bondsman to someone else. Never. But… you babes are different.'

Spencer slowly shook his head. 'Oh no. Oh no Floyd. You can beat me and burn me and batter me half to death, but you're not going to give me a tattoo. NO!'

Floyd nodded. 'Well I thought the same. I agree. They wouldn't suit you. Promise. No tattoos.'

But the words Floyd had said weren't sitting well for Spencer. 'You said what was on your back would cause me pain.' He muttered.

'Well not exactly, but what is on my back gave me an idea. Thing is that I didn't want this conversation when Sam was around. He'd object about something somehow and I'm too fired up inside to cope with his whining right now. Yet I do have to keep both of you within my sight. However Sam being laid out for a while has given me this chance. Hotchner wont hurt him. He would actually protect Sam with his life. I know he will. They have a bond of some kind. Not one I introduced, but I think maybe that Hotchner is the only person who has shown Sam any form of emotional… How can I say this… If Hotch had tits, Sam would suckle them. He wants to feel nurtured. He gets that from him. So having Hotch there will satisfy Sam and keep him safe for a while and give me the chance to show you my complete lack of nubs or wings… and the reason you're going to pretty much hate me for a while; not yet though. Later.'

'Suckle?' Spencer for a moment looked somewhat disgusted.

'I caught him once with a dog. He's very insecure.'

'A dog? What? Doing what with a dog?' Images, images… too many disgusting images.

'Suckling.'

'Oh god.' Spencer moaned. 'I think I'm going to be sick.'

'It's his nature Spencer. Don't be hard on him. Considering you're the one who killed him you're being a bit… how can I put this… insensitive? Now I want you to forget all about Sam. It's just the two of us. Nothing to interfere with anything. I've missed our times together just us.'

Spencer wanted to remind Floyd that it was him who brought Sam into the mix and he'd be more than happy if Sam was removed from it again, but hands over his chest and other sensitive places stopped him from saying anything… stopped him from thinking much for a while too. Spencer's mind was too full of other things even to notice that Floyd still had his boots on as he tipped Spencer onto his front on the bed.

Somewhere a dog started to bark.

A baby probably cried too.

Spencer wouldn't have known though because he was too busy screaming… 'Floyd! Floyd stop! Whatever that is you're doing you have to stop!' But Floyd didn't stop. For Spencer it might have felt like he was being screwed by a highly charged cattle prod… For Floyd it was a huge release of _something_ which had been building up inside of him for a while now.

The bulb in the socket above their heads shattered, sending tiny bits of glass all over them and the bed. Spencer didn't notice that either. There were other popping crashing noises from the other small rooms in the apartment. Spencer's howls of surprise and pain weakened to moans and small yelps… Floyd yelled out in delight as Spencer continued to wriggle and struggle to get out from under what was causing so much pain.

There was blood.

Floyd could smell blood and ozone and sweat and pain and he could feel a monstrous urge to tear into Spencer until the world exploded around his ears and Spencer stopped breathing. He didn't though. Even though things carried on popping and cracking and pots fell off shelves and pictures crashed to the floor from the walls, and books flew off bookshelves… Floyd stopped and rolled off Spencer onto the bed next to him.

Reid lay with his face in the pillows breathing in and out slowly. He was covered in smears of blood, scratches, and what looked like crescent shaped burn marks where Floyd had dug in his fingernails a bit too hard – or with too much energy.

'Spence?' Floyd moved Reid's head so that he could see his face.

Spencer glared back at Floyd with a tear stained face and blood under his nose. 'F…' He replied.

'Fuck… that was _good_!'

'You killed me.' Spencer whispered in reply. 'What on earth?'

'You'll be fine. Just might feel a bit hyper for a while.' Floyd kissed the end of Spencer's nose.

'Hyper? Can the dead be hyper? What happened?'

'Just relax. Hopefully it wont be like that every time. I should have wanked off first maybe? Next time remind me. You rest there. I'll get you coffee and you just stay here. Need to clean up.'

'Glass.' Spencer muttered.

'Wont kill you. Just tiny bits of glass sweetness. Lay still and they wont dig in.'

'Was that the pain you were going to give me? Is this what you warned me about?'

Floyd pushed back off the bed and adjusted his jeans. 'No babes. That was a warm up. Get used to it. I think I might be growing nubs after all.' He let out a howl of a laugh and walked from the bedroom crunching glass under his boots.

Spencer did as Floyd suggested and didn't move. Actually he didn't think he could move even had he wanted to. During his time spent with Floyd over the years he'd had some odd things done to him, but never something like that. His skin was tingling and he was sure he could hear the hairs on his arms crackling with static. His eyes hurt and now his nose was bleeding again. If he'd been asked how he was feeling and what had happened he would have told whoever it was that he'd been raped by Robocop who had short circuited. But no one was going to ask. And if Floyd did ask Spencer would just say that he was feeling Great… and Thank You! Thank you for electrocuting me up the rear end. Reid closed his eyes and felt a fresh lot of wetness run down the side of his face. He didn't _think_ that he was crying, not really… but to say that what had just happened was _shocking_ was an understatement.

'Babes?'

Spencer opened his eyes again.

'You were asleep. Here.' He handed over a mug of coffee. 'It will make you feel better.'

'Feel great.' Spencer muttered.

'Well I know you better than that. And people who feel great don't sob and cry in their sleep. Was I too much for you babes?'

Spencer reached out for the mug but was careful not to let his slightly shaking fingers touch Floyd's. 'Loaded question.' Spencer answered him. 'You're always too much for me.'

There was a nod from Floyd, an agreement. 'Tomorrow I'm going to get Sam. We will drive out to that place in the desert. Base up there for a while. I think it will be safer. Get up off the bed when you've drunk that and be careful of the glass. I've cleared up everywhere else. Go have a shower and find something comfortable to wear. I've left a tube of ointment in the wash basin. It will stop the bleeding.' Floyd prodded one of Spencer's exposed buttocks. 'I have a theory; if you let me fuck you every morning and every evening…'

'I've never stopped you.' Spencer cut in. 'But I do need you to explain what you did. What happened?'

'That's why I need to go back to the bunker. You will be safe. I said that.'

'Safe from what?' Spencer rolled over and winced as bits dug into his lower back and upper legs.

'Safe from me of course. You are _stupid_ sometimes. I'm going to leave you for ten minutes. I can trust you? I can leave you? I need pineapple jello.'

o-o-o

As Spencer carefully showered, Floyd sat on the bathroom floor and ate his jello. He had asked if Spencer wanted to share the shower but he turned down the offer. Not because he didn't think Floyd needed to be clean, but partly because it seemed Floyd intended to get in the shower fully clothed and partly because Spencer wanted to wash properly. Having Floyd sitting there watching and eating jello out of a plastic pot with this fingers didn't help him to relax. Floyd seemed to understand the need to wash though and so he sat and watched and licked at his fingers and wondered if Aaron had ever been quite this entertained when Spencer showered. Floyd felt calm and to him life felt as though all the pieces were finally coming together. Spencer however felt as though the few pieces he knew about had just been blown out of the water. He wanted to ask Floyd more about what had happened when he'd gone back and asked for Sam's return. What had he asked for? What had they offered? What the hell was going on? Did Sam have a better idea than Floyd would like him to have? After Spencer had done a few contortions and applied medicated ointment to various places and then had slipped into a pair of red and blue striped PJ bottoms he thought it was time to talk, before Floyd pounced and frazzled his brain completely. Spencer chose a book to read and sat in his chair. Floyd lay on the rug propped up on his elbows and grinned. It was an unsettling grin. A very toothy grin.

'So…' Spencer started.

'Yes.' Floyd replied. 'The thing is that I'm not sure what the fuck is going on.' Spencer thought that was an outright fabrication but let Floyd carry on. 'It seems that when I get overly emotional or stressed things start to explode. Lots of things. Big things as well as things attached to me. Which I'd never call _small_ or _undersized_ ever but not quite as large as a fucking house. Now that's not something I expected. I felt it build up and I have to admit that it was rather enjoyable. I felt like some kind of super hero with bolts of power coming out of my fingertips. Now as to why this is happening I have no idea.'

Spencer said nothing but fiddled with the pages of Huckleberry Finn which was resting on his knees.

'You don't believe me.' Floyd stated.

'I don't believe you. You read my mind. Tell me what the importance of the bunker is? What is it there for and why do we need to go there to be safe from you? What do you think is going to happen if we don't?'

Floyd shook his head. 'Now's not the time to discuss that. I want Sam here too. At the bunker, as you call it. It's not actually that, but yes… there. I will try to explain it then.'

More lies. They flowed off Floyd like butter from a hot knife. There was no point in talking about it. He was going to lie continuously for some reason and maybe it was because Floyd had no idea what was going on and maybe he was sheltering Spencer from something. 'Are you dying?' He finally asked.

Floyd blinked.

'Is it something like that?'

This time no response.

'Can I help you?'

'No babes you cant help me, except by trying to ignore Sam's bitching and attempting to get along with him. For me.'

'So you're dying?'

'If something was to happen to me Spencer, you need to remember that Sam is me too. You'll have to…'

Spencer stood. The book thudded to the floor and was kicked roughly out of the way as Spencer took a step towards Floyd. 'NO! Whatever it is you're saying… it's no. A flat refusal. I'll help you. I'll do anything you want, but I'll never _ever_ replace you.'

'Then you're going to come to the _bunker_ with me and you will do as I ask? Even if it sounds insane? Even if you think I'm wrong?'

'If this involves Sam… then sorry Floyd, no. If it involves the two of us then…'

'For me? To keep me from exploding in a huge fiery fourth of july explosion? I'll go out looking pretty, but it'll stink and you'll be left with the other me who will, I can assure you, blame you for everything from The Great Plague to the killing of the Aztec Gods. He will demand that you make amends to him for allowing me to devolve into a wondrous shower of lights.'

'I know what you are suggesting. It will never happen.'

'Just fuck him for the love of the gods! Fuck the boy and win him over. It's all you have to do! He'll be your dog forever! You'll have control of a minor _demon_.'

'NO!' Spencer kicked out at one of Floyd's elbows. It was like kicking a brick wall. Floyd didn't even flinch.

'He will come crawling after you. Drooling and begging to be suckled. It would be much easier just to flip him over and have him.'

'You are not listening to me! He's a boy! He's a whore! He's not you!'

'So you'll let me do what I need to do to stop this happening? You'll do something you don't want to save me?'

'As long as it doesn't involve Sam…'

'Which it doesn't. Promise. Hand on heart. But if you change your mind, remember what I've said. Remember what will be left. You and Sam. That's it. Nothing else. The two of you locked for an eternity in my place under the desert. So when I ask you to do something for me, you will do it without question. You will do it because I have asked you to. You wont try to make excuses and you'll not scream or fight it.'

Spencer sat back down again with a flop. 'You're going to kill me? Make some kind of sacrifice? Or will it be someone else? Sam?'

'No… no one will die if you just do what I ask. No complaints. No going back on your word at a later date.'

Now Spencer nodded slightly. 'You will reveal all in the bunker, with Sam there?'

'Yes and no. It will be at the bunker and Sam will be there, but this is strictly between the pair of us. Like the tattoo on my back. Just us Spencer. Not a damned word to Sam.'

Another nod. A deep breath. 'So I need to do something to stop you exploding and being trapped. Something which wont involve death but will involve pain, and doesn't include Sam.'

Now Floyd nodded. 'You got it. So it's a deal?' It seemed that at least for now it was a deal. Floyd picked the book up, rolled onto his back and found the first page. 'Spencer? One more thing… I look OK when I have to wear my eyeglasses don't I?'

Strange question. Floyd didn't wear them often, but when he did Spencer had never commented one way or the other. Very much like when he put his on. 'You look great in them. Why? Do you want me to get them for you?' He wondered suddenly if Floyd was having trouble reading the words printed on the page.

'No. I'm fine, babes. I was thinking of Sam. He needs glasses. He's lost sight in one eye and the other is hinky. He'll look OK wont he?'

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine the sort of glasses Sam would have chosen. His mind locked on large pink butterfly shaped things. 'He'll look just great. And maybe he'll be less miserable if he can see better.'

'I love him Spencer. I'm not _in_ love with him, but I love him like I'd love a dog. You get me?'

Spencer did. He got him totally and completely. 'Are you going to read to me or just lay there playing with yourself and thinking of Sam?' There was no laughter or amusement in Spencer's voice.


	38. Chapter 38

38

When the pair of them walked, not touching, into the waiting area of the hospital the following day, Hotch was still there sitting as though he'd not moved from the spot since they'd left. He looked up with tired eyes at Floyd and Spencer and then gestured towards the plastic covered soft chairs lining the yellow wall.

'He's awake.' Hotch mumbled. 'But he's not in a very good mood. It should have been you here. He immediately assumed you were dead or in prison. It makes me wonder what sort of a life he has and the experiences he's had to think that.'

Floyd raised a weary eyebrow. 'Well I think you know the answer to your own thoughts Aaron. Spence and I had a lot to talk about. Not really something we could have done here, or in front of you. How's Sam's face?'

'Considerably better than yesterday. You can see it's him again. They've drained and he's not on morphine anymore. But Flanders, it's going to take a while for him to recover from this. They were saying about more surgery on his jaw. It _was_ shattered.' Hotch tried not to look at Spencer when he said that last bit, but found he couldn't help himself. Spencer looked down at the floor. He didn't have to be reminded. 'You will have to talk to them about that though. I have no authority over what surgeries he goes through. His glasses have arrived too. He's refusing to wear them. Tinted lenses. He said it will look as though he's blind.'

'Which he likely will be if he doesn't wear them. You can go now.' No word of gratitude for staying awake all night. Just a dismissive wave of the hand. 'I'll have a coffee, babes, and then we'll go pay Sam a visit. I think further surgery is going to just upset him. He needs a rest from all that shit.'

_And he wants to get him out to the bunker for some reason_ Spencer thought.

Hotch didn't leave. At least not yet. He sat and waited until Floyd had left to see Sam and then spoke to him.

'Is everything all right?' Hotch… stupid question. He could tell by the odd pallor of Spencer's skin that everything wasn't all right.

'It's been stressful, Hotch.' No point in lying. Hotch would know. 'But I think it will be fine. He's been worried about Sam… which is understandable. And his time locked away seems to have changed him slightly. Not for the worse… just different. I cant put my finger on it. He seems almost sad. Or maybe defeatist? I cant put my finger on it because I know neither of those emotions are ones he'd feel. So I'm confused. I'm sure once the Sam situation is sorted that all will be good again. We need time alone.'

It was a request that Hotch left and Hotch knew that, but he stayed seated nonetheless. 'Do you feel as though you are in danger?' Again maybe not the correct thing to say.

'Only when I try to tell a joke. Really Hotch, everything will be great. Settling in time. You know?'

'They found the remains of Mr Teevy out on the highway. At least part of him.' Spencer said nothing. 'They're still trying to recover the remains of Mrs Teevy.' Again Spencer said nothing. 'Natural causes will probably be ruled out.' Spencer fiddled with his shirt sleeves. 'If you know anything Spencer…'

'I don't.'

Hotch sighed. 'The ground doesn't magically open up and swallow a house. A man doesn't explode at the side of the freeway without something prompting it, though forensics is having a problem finding out exactly what _did_ do it. Two joggers were mown down… Floyd suddenly takes authority of Sam…'

'Sam is old enough to decide where he wants to be, Hotch… and I think you will find that it is Floyd paying this medical bill and not the Teevy family. Now I don't know if you're trying to tell me or hint at me that Floyd made someone explode or make a house fall down, but if you are, you know you are talking rubbish. When has he ever shown that he could do something like that? He has never used explosives. EVER! It's not his MO. You know that, so I don't know why you're even suggesting it. As for the two joggers, well I don't know. I really have no idea, but as far as I know nothing of that nature has happened and I think I would notice it if I was sitting in the passenger seat.' Spencer was sure that Hotch could see this heart thumping through the cotton of his summer shirt.

'We will be keeping and eye on Flanders.' Hotch stood. 'And when I have enough evidence to arrest him, I will.'

Spencer nodded. 'If he tells me anything of use I will let you know.'

o-o-o

Floyd stood and looked down at the kid on the bed. It was obvious now it was Sam. The swelling had gone down very fast. Floyd could make that even quicker, but not here. He'd fuck Spencer in a hospital bed, but not Sam. Not with Hotch outside. Not worth the risk of being arrested for some kind of paedophilia or incest or rape or some such imagined crime. Floyd could say till he was red in the face that those margins don't count with Sam as he's not actually human, but then they'd try to do him for bestiality or cruelty to animals… dog rape of some description. He thought it best to just not do it here. He sat for a while and watched Sam's eyes twitching under his eye lids.

'Are you ready to go?' Floyd asked as he sat in the chair next to the bed.

'No. I feel sick. I have a headache. My hips hurt and I think I have a broken pelvis and by the way I have some kind of STD again.'

'So apart from that, are you ready to go?'

'I guess so. Where are we going? To the hide out? In the desert?'

'Yup. We're going to hide away like armed criminals on the run.'

'OK. As long as they have pain killers there.'

'Oh Sammy boy. I can promise you heroin and coke if you come quietly and don't disturb the whole of the hospital. You can have any damned drug you want except crack. I don't like that shit.'

'Well you just spoiled my day out now haven't you?' Sam draped his legs over the side of the bed. 'I have to keep the bandages on my face and change them every other day. And I need stuff for the ulcers in my mouth and the infection behind my jaw. You know I might never be able to fully open my mouth again.'

'I'm sure that can be fixed.'

'Thank you Floyd.' And a painful looking small smile. 'I will hate Spencer forever for this.'

Floyd rubbed at his face with the palm of his hands. 'Sam… please just stop with the bitching will you? I've enough to worry about without your constant whining and moaning about things which cant be changed. You need a hair cut. You need to put those glasses on and you need to get dressed. Not necessarily in that order. I can do your hair later… don't look at me like that. You'll do what I fucking tell you to do and apologising for your bitchy attitude towards Spencer is top of your list.'

'Oh for fuck! You cant make me! I can still see him over me battering my head in! I'll see that forever! How can you possibly expect me to forgive him for doing that?'

'Because I can fuck you if you've a broken neck or not. Get yourself sorted. We need to leave. No more arguments. Try to be nice. Stop picking at your scabs, you'll get scars… and get a fucking move on.'

'You threatening to break my neck if I don't say sorry to Spencer, when it was him who hurt me?'

'Yes.'

Floyd turned away from Sam and back out into the corridor. 'What do I have to sign to release Sam Trent-Saviour from this shit hole?' He called out loud enough to get everyone's attention.

o-o-o

Hotch had left by the time everything was sorted out. He'd left but told Spencer that he was _not_ to leave town any time soon. Spencer told Hotch that he had no intention of leaving Vegas and so that was all right. However he had no control over what Floyd or Sam were going to do next. Was there a point in Hotch telling Floyd not to leave town? No… no point in the slightest, but that wouldn't stop them from keeping track on him. They knew where the motel was. They knew the car Spencer was driving. They could track them easily if needs be. Hotch just hoped that they didn't have to. He hoped that the deaths of The Teevy's was not something which could be connected to Floyd and not because he didn't want it to be Floyd, but because he knew trying to pin anything on the man would be impossible unless he admitted to it to protect someone else and then that would mean again that Floyd would be protecting Spencer from something. Hotch would like the case to be closed. For the house to have just fallen down and for Mr Teevy to have been attacked by a pack of wild dogs. Hotch didn't think that what he liked or wished was going to have any bearing on what was eventually going to happen.

Spencer led the way out to the car. Sam followed Spencer and a snarling angry Floyd took up the rear. They had bags packed and ready. They had a car. They had a destination… A shame that it didn't feel as though they were going on a fun vacation. Spencer looked scared half to death and Sam looked like a deep dark gloom had set over him. He didn't want to wear the tinted glasses, but told Floyd that he'd wear them because he'd told him to.

The real fact was that Sam was finding it harder and harder to focus and had a horrible pain constantly behind his eye and was now thinking that he probably had a tumour there slowly growing and making him go blind. Wearing glasses allowed him to focus better, but it didn't stop the pain. And in case Floyd or Spencer were wondering he _did_ have a pain in his right hip, and his pelvis _did_ hurt like hell, but neither of them wanted to listen to Sam. Both of them seemed miserable as sin and Sam didn't want to talk to them. At least not yet.

Floyd was tingling all over again. Lights buzzed as he walked under them and the elevator shuddered and squealed in a way which alarmed all of them. Down in the lobby the _fire exit_ light exploded suddenly and the computers went dead. Floyd broke into a very fast walk, over taking Sam and Spencer and then once out of the building the jogged quickly to the slowly disintegrating car.

The next dispute was over who was going to sit in the back, and who was going to drive. Floyd insisted that he'd drive, even though he stood there making no move towards the driver's door. Spencer likewise insisted that as it was _his_ rental _he_ would drive. Sam was also moaning about the matter of being told that he would ride in the back.

'There's sticky stuff all over the seat. Cant Spencer sit there?' His voice sounded muffled.

'This vehicle wont get us across the desert.' Spencer now announced.

'There's blood on the hood.' Floyd pointed out. 'So we are going to get moving now. Sam in the back. Spencer drive. I'll sit shotgun. And any more moaning or bitching from either of you and you'll be in the trunk. Understood?'

Spencer understood, but Sam seemed to still be having a problem with this decision. 'Right, so Spencer wants to drive so you let him. I want to sit in the front but I still have to go in the back on that fucking sticky stuff which you've not explained yet. I'm not sitting there until I know what it is. There's buzzing things all over it. So there… you have _my_ decision too. I'm not sitting in the fucking back like a kid.'

Floyd gave Sam a very tired look. 'It's green tea and alfalfa soda. It tasted like fermented horse shit, but it's not going to hurt you. Get in the fucking back of the damned car before I keep my word, boy, and stuff you in the sodding trunk. Move you little arse now!'

'But I'm in pain!' Sam wailed as he climbed over the seat into the back. 'It's so unfair! Why am I always treated like the kid! I hate you!'

Floyd was tempted to pull Sam's glasses off and rip out his eyeballs right there in the hospital parking lot, but he gripped a hold of the closed car door and gave Spencer the nod to get in. 'You know where we're going?'

'Nowhere in this thing. It wont get us to where you want it to.'

'It will.'

'Floyd…'

'Drive or get in the trunk.' Floyd snapped back.

o-o-o

The car rattled and bounced and scraped over the blacktop of the road. Spencer was very sure that it'd not get them all the way there. The suspension seemed to be in serious trouble and the engine temperature was rising rapidly. He was also having to be very careful when he applied pressure to the brakes as the car really didn't seem to want to stop when Spencer demanded it.

He knew the best way out to the scrubs. He'd lived here long enough and wandered around here as a kid and a youth long enough to know the best short cuts and the easiest ways to disappear into the desert.

An hour later saw them pulled up next to a monster of a cactus which looked as though it could kill a man if he stood too close. Floyd had ensured Sam that indeed it _would_ kill a man and asked if he needed proof.

This subjected both Spencer and Floyd to a tirade of insults and impossible things to do to each other and said cactus.

Thus Spencer sat in the driver's seat with his head resting on the steering wheel and his cap (provided by Floyd) on backwards and Floyd stood next to the car with sand popping and crackling under his feet. The only sound was the wind rushing over the desert… and Sam's screams from the trunk.

'He deserved it.' Floyd told Spencer.

'He will die in there. Let him out.'

'And I let him out and he will carry on. He wont let up until he knows my threats are real. You know that. If I let him out now he will know I don't mean it.'

'Well maybe you _shouldn't_ mean it! You cant keep him locked in there.' Spencer didn't move his head from the wheel he was clutching hold of with white knuckles.

'Want to join him? I'm sure there's room and he can take the chance whilst squashed up together to make that much needed apology he's going to make.'

'Get in. If he has to stay there then we have to move faster. I'm not going to be the cause of his death again. I thought he needed nurturing and love, this isn't the way to show it.'

'Like you'd know.' Floyd snapped. 'Love can be shown in different ways.'

'Locking someone in the trunk of a car isn't one of them.' But Spencer started the engine again. He crackled and burped and then chugged and belched, but it _did_ start. Long gone was the gentle purring sound it had made when Spencer had picked Floyd up from the prison. 'They will be able to track the car. They have…'

'I disabled it. Don't worry. You worry too much. Sing to me.'

'Sing?'

'Sing! Come on Spencer! Sing me a song!' Floyd turned to Reid and smirked a happy face.

There was no song. Spencer was angry. He thought had he been Floyd he'd have been shooting bolts of lightening from his fingertips, but all he could do to show how against what Floyd had just done was to grit his teeth and keep driving in silence. The banging and rattling of the car increased as the screams and kicking from the trunk decreased and it was an hour later that the car belched its last breath and came to a shuddering halt in the shade of a rocky ledge. Spencer way sure that the car gave out a final last sigh, but it might have been Floyd who just sat and looked out of the sand battered windscreen. Still there was no real reason to talk. Spencer carefully opened the car door which just crashed and landed in a cloud of dust, having come off the hinges. Spencer then walked to the back of the car and released the trunk.

'You fucking cunt!' Sam greeted Spencer.

He was tempted to slam the lid down again and leave him there to cook in the desert, but he put a cautious hand out to him. 'It wasn't my decision.' Spencer tried to reason with the unreasonable. 'Come, I'll help you out.'

'Don't touch me! Don't you dare fucking touch me! Just go away and leave me alone. I've puked all over my dressings. I've pissed myself and I think every bone in my body is smashed. I hope you're happy!'

'And the car's on fire.' A voice said from behind Spencer. 'Get out or burn.' Floyd said. He really didn't sound bothered one way or the other. And this worried Spencer a lot, but not half as much as it worried Sam.

This time Spencer reached down and grabbed Sam who protested weakly but didn't try to bite or scratch, which was just one small very miniscule plus on top off all the crap going on. He helped Sam to walk away from the car and then sat him down in a slither of deep black shade. Floyd was standing back shielding his eyes with one hand watching the thick black plumes of smoke rising from the impossibly expensive car which Spencer had meant to have just for a couple of days to cheer up Floyd. It was going to cost him a lot of money. Spencer hunkered down next to Sam and handed him a bottle of water, telling him to sip slowly or he'll be sick again. Sam snatched it but did what Spencer advised. No… Sam sipped despite what Spencer advised. If he'd been asked he would have announced that he didn't have to be told to sip. It didn't stop Sam from leaning forward and puking some more though, making a hot puddle of mess between his feet. The puking noises were followed by a soft splat sound as his glasses slipped off his nose and down to join the mess.

Spencer though was watching Floyd now. He was trying to figure out exactly what it was going on with him. He'd thought it was maybe that Floyd was feeling defeatist. He thought maybe Floyd was dying. He thought that Floyd had given up. Now though looking at the way Floyd was watching the car melt away and be sucked down by the desert sands Spencer thought maybe he'd been wrong. Perhaps Sam had been correct. He turned now to look at Sam who was cleaning his glasses and kicking sand over the mess.

'You see that rocky ledge over there beyond this?' Floyd moved rapidly to Sam and dragged him to his feet. He turned Sam in the direction he wanted him to look in. 'You see it?'

'Let the fuck go of me.' Sam snapped back. 'Yes I see it, but no need to fucking pinch me at the same time.' Sam snatched his arm away from Floyd but now he was doing what Floyd had been and was shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun.

'Good. That's good.' Floyd ruffled Sam's hair. 'Well that's not where we are going. Turn twenty five degrees to your right. That is the direction we are going in. Here's your bag.' Floyd passed Sam his pink rucksack. 'Shoulder it, and start walking. It'll take us about half an hour.' A prod now in Sam's back and as Sam started, with no more complaints, to walk towards where Floyd had directed him, Floyd turned to Spencer with a frown on his face. 'His sight is worse than he's letting on.'

Spencer nodded back. 'I thought so too, but didn't want to cause ripples in the already stormy waters. We will have to watch him carefully or he's going to end up having another nasty accident.'

'Very carefully. He's going to fucking flip if he thinks we know.' Floyd took a tight hold of Spencer's hand. 'Now babes… we are nearly there. Time to relax and prepare and tell a few stories I think. I'd also like to have the chance to get totally off my face and sink to an all time low and fuck Sam. I hope you don't mind.' The fingers wrapped tightly around Spencer's.

'I don't mind.' He whispered back.

'Actually you do… but you're just being way too nice to me. All things taken into consideration, when you think about what I'm going to do to you down in that place, you're being awfully nice to me.' Another tightening of the fingers.

'Fine, yes I do mind, but what's the point in protesting? I've nowhere to go. You are all I have.' Spencer gave the tiniest of shrugs. 'I just wish you would explain to me exactly what is going on with you. I thought… I really thought that you were dying.'

The hand released Spencer's. 'I know.' Floyd replied. 'Come on now… Sam's getting away from us.' Floyd then broke out into a long loping run after Sam. Spencer hung back slightly but watched the pair of them closely. Floyd had hooked a finger around one of the loops on Sam's belt and was pulling him along slightly. He could see that they were talking but the words were too quiet for him to hear. It irked Spencer that Floyd swung so easily from one to the next. He knew it shouldn't. He knew where his place was, but that didn't stop him from grinding his teeth in annoyance, which was a habit Spencer was doing with more regularity than he'd wish. A quick glance behind him showed no sign at all that there had once been a car there. Whether it had been a fluke and an abnormality in the desert floor or if it had been something Floyd had done he didn't know, but he wanted to think that the sand had done that with no assistance.

Now looking back at Sam and Floyd he could see that Sam had wrapped an arm around Floyd's waist. Tempted though he was to run forwards and tear Sam away, he didn't. He walked quietly and probably forgotten behind them, slowly making their way to the place Spencer had driven out to in a land rover to ensure that Sam's remains were kept secure. He wished now that he had dumped them in a bin in some backstreet behind a casino in Vegas proper. He had tried to do the right thing, but it seemed what whatever he had done would have not been good enough for Sam…

'Why are you limping?' Floyd had asked Sam.

'I was squashed up in the trunk of that pile of shit.'

'That pile of shit was really a rather nice pile of shit, but that doesn't answer my question.' Floyd replied.

'My hip hurts.' Sam whined.

'Just your imagination.' Floyd let him know. 'So how's it going with Spence?'

'I wish _he_ was just my imagination. I hate him. I really fucking hate him. I don't trust him and I don't like him. He's a sneaky little shit and I'm never going to like him.'

'You getting on OK then?'

'I guess.' Sam sighed. 'I _want_ to hate him, but he's so fucking persistent and in my face all the time. He acts all nice, but I know that he's just waiting for me to be in a position for him to smack my head in again. Why does he have to be with us? What is it you see in him?'

Floyd thought for a moment on this one. He chewed on his bottom lip for a second and then replied. 'He doesn't stink of piss and vomit. He doesn't have puss leaking out of his face… and he's nice to fuck.'

Sam attempted to pull away from Floyd, but couldn't. 'I'm only like this because of him. If he'd not done that then I'd have been fine. None of this would have happened. It's all his fault.'

Again Floyd took a few seconds to consider his answer. 'Actually no, I have to disagree with you Sam. It's your fault in the entirety. Had you not gone so far thinking you could seek salvation by killing yourself then you'd not have been with the two of us on that trip, you'd not have fallen down that pit, I'd not have tripped trying to stop you, Spencer wouldn't have ended up saving you… maybe you'd have listened to me and carried on going north. We would never have ended up in that building, the shadows' wouldn't have taken you. You wouldn't have run off down the sewers and gone on a killing spree and therefore you'd not have been caught gloating and been hung. The incident with the near death wouldn't have happened, and I wouldn't have had the chance to get you to scare the shit out of Spencer. Then! And then you come after me when I've told you to leave and Spencer being half out of his mind clobbers you. That… that is the reason. So don't you blame Spencer for something which you brought on yourself. Everything you do has a consequence. It might take a while for the shit to ooze out of the cracks made, but believe me it will. And it will keep on happening until you can see that what happened to you was all your doing.'

Sam looked up at Floyd and shook his head. 'Actually if you'd not sent out those emails to people I would never have tried to do what I'd been instructed. Therefore it's you fault.'

'But…' Floyd paused. 'But… I only did that to form a link with Spencer again.'

'So it's Spencer's fault.'

'No… I can actually take the trail back further and place you there once again. I only left for those two years to get training so that I could guide you better, so it's still your fault. If you learnt quicker… the woodcraft… then I'd not have left.'

'But…'

'Nope… it's your fault. However far back you want to drag this I can take it a step further. You shouldn't have gone begging them. You should have thought carefully about what you wanted. You should have double thought it and then forgotten it all and tried again. They're tricky bastards. They will offer you everything you've ever wanted.'

'They did.'

'And you in your greed accepted it… you accepted the offer of the thing you wanted most.' Sam nodded slowly… This wasn't going the way Sam thought it would. He'd been sure that this was all Spencer's fault. 'At the time they ask.' Floyd now said. 'At the time they offer that thing you want more than anything what were you thinking of?'

'I cant remember. They never asked.' Sam sounded a bit puzzled by this.

'They don't need to ask. They know already. You Sam are a whore. You like to spike things into your arm. You like mirrors and accessories… you like pretty things. That's exactly what you got. If you weren't thinking _I want to be eternally beautiful_ then Sammy boy you don't get it.'

'So I'm going to be ugly like a fucking pig forever just because I forgot to think something I thought was obvious?'

'I'll fix you. I can fix you this time. I too have things I asked for, and keeping company with a puss filled baby wasn't one of them. So I can assist you, but I'm going to let you suffer if you don't make things right with Spencer.'

'If you can fix me, why leave it till we are out in the middle of nowhere? Why not do it back at the motel or something?'

'Because I like to see animals suffer. It's my sadistic side. Cant help myself! You see that slit in the rock face. Looks like a cunny… that's where we're going. Keep walking in a straight line.'

Sam squinted behind his glasses then gave a small nod as Floyd slapped him on the butt.

o-o-o

Floyd turned now from Sam and walked back to Spencer. 'Come on! Nearly there.' Floyd shook out his hands as though getting rid of water. 'I've had a word with Sam. Put things kinda in perspective for him, but you're still going to have to make more of an effort. Cant leave it all up to me. I'm too fucking tired to keep being the peacemaker here.'

'Peacemaker. That's a new one.'

'I liked it. Made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside.'

'It think it's sun stroke. And I will try to make things better between us, but he doesn't make it easy.'

Again Floyd shook out his hands and then hunkered down and pressed his hands against the sandy floor. 'Fucking hands.' Floyd muttered.

Once more a horrible feeling of doom swept through Reid. He looked at Floyd who seemed to be trying to crush the rocks under the sands and then over his shoulder to where they'd walked from. No way back. Only forwards now. He stepped over to Floyd and looked down at the top of his head. Slowly he lowered his hand and watched as Floyd's hair seemed to sway and try to rise up to meet his fingers. Quickly Spencer moved his hand away again.

'You know how I can do locks.' Floyd turned his head to look at Reid who nodded. 'Electronic shit… I don't show up on surveillance… I can do fancy crap and unlock doors and mess with computers.' Again Spencer nodded. 'Well it seems to be a bit out of control.'

'I thought you were going to kill me last night.'

Floyd stood up and placed his hands on Spencer's shoulders. 'Well yeah, I know. I thought that too for a few minutes. I should have discharged a bit first. In more than one way, but… I guess I just forgot all about that once I got you alone. You've not forgotten what I said though have you? About when we are there? I will need to do something and it will cause you a small amount of pain.'

Spencer sighed. There was nothing like a lamb being led to slaughter. He was going to walk through that gap in the rocks and be sucked down an elevator which shouldn't exist and then be hurt beyond all measure… and why? The only reason he could think of was because that was what Floyd wanted to do.

And Spencer was going to let him do it.

o-o-o

The three of them stood in front of the metal door at the end of the tiny fissure in the rocks. They could just about see the sky above them, but the rocks towards the top jutted out to a degree that they almost touched either side. It was actually more like a narrow cave with a small gash in the very high ceiling. The green light was blinking happily next to some squiggles engraved into the oddly shiny metal.

'Mar-ka-van.' Sam muttered.

'Mar'_har_'_vern_.' Floyd corrected him. 'You need lessons on your vocabulary.'

'What?' Added Spencer.

'Mar'ha'vern. Staging post number one. Loose translation. It doesn't really translate very well.'

'Staging post for what?'

Sam snorted a small laugh and Floyd prodded the boy on the shoulder. 'For someone who can barely read you need to keep your amusement to yourself. Spencer love, it will all become clear.'

'But I've been down there before… it wasn't clear then.' Spencer went to grab Floyd's hand and then thought better of it.

'Because we didn't go forwards babes. As said. It will all become clear. No need to worry. Let's go!'

'Open pod safe stage one.' Sam said. 'That's a better translation.'

Floyd nodded. 'Stage one elevation pod.'

'That's still not really right though.' Sam mused. 'Elevation one pod stage. It's a secure level. That's what it means. Pod elevation one - secure stage.'

'It really doesn't matter what it says.' Floyd sounded a bit annoyed with Sam's persistence as he pressed the only button on the small panel. The green blinking light stabilised, went orange and then red. The door slid downwards to reveal the small elevator car. The three of them stepped in and the door slid back up again. They stood at the back wall shoulder to shoulder each of them expecting Floyd to touch something and blow them skywards, but Floyd now had his hands stuffed down into his pockets. As the elevator car came to a smooth stop, Sam stepped forwards and pressed the 'open door' button. It made a soft click and a voice spoke out from above them.

'Unauthorised access. Authorised personnel only beyond this point. Unauthorised access... Five, four…'

Spencer stepped forward and pressed the button. 'Access granted.' The door slid down to reveal the corridor, but not before Spencer heard Sam say… 'Fucking cunt. Got door access and I don't.'

Ahead of them was a long corridor. Sam stepped out into it first. It was almost like the two doting parents letting the child have a look around the holiday apartment first. 'Go choose a room. One on the left.' Floyd told Sam. 'Bathroom is here.' He tapped on a sliding door. 'That's storage, more storage… a kitchen… armoury bottom left.' The door hissed closed behind them. 'There's a computer security room and right down the end is the lounge with a TV and games console. Go explore. If a door is locked it is locked for a reason.' Floyd then turned to Spencer. 'Damn this feels so fucking good!' He placed a hand on each of Spencer's cheeks and gave him a long comforting kiss on the lips. 'I can feel all that shit draining from me already. Going to be a while, but fuck that feels so good. Like having a piss or shit you've been holding in forever. Goddamn! Come on. First things first. Coffee and food and then we'll sit and relax… then I will sort out what I have to do tomorrow. Should really help Sam clean up too and I want to take some snort and relax right out.'

'Why is the armoury locked?' Sam called from the other end of the corridor. 'And why could Spencer unlock the door back there and not me?'

Floyd ignored him. Floyd thought both of those things were more than a little bit obvious.

'Why is there a red wheelchair in the lounge?' Sam now called back. 'Who else is going to be here? Who's the chair for, Floyd? Floyd! Floyd! Are you listening to me? The picture on the TV is crap. Can I play a game? I'm going to take these things off my face and have a shower.' All pain in Sam's hip seemed for now forgotten as he raced around the small set of rooms looking to see what he could find. He chose the bedroom nearest to the bathroom, which had a toilet, washbasin, and shower. No tub.

Spencer and Floyd went to the kitchen and prepared coffee and a snack, but questions were now buzzing through Reid's head. Questions he'd not thought to ask when he was fourteen and there was no one to answer when he came back with Sam's remains. They were there now screaming at him.

'So… what _is_ this place? What is it for? What powers it?'

Floyd opened a large fridge and pulled a carton of fruit juice. 'This place is what is seems to be. At least on the surface. You don't need to know more for now. I'll tell you when the time arrives, if it does arrive. I'm sort of hoping that it wont. Look!' He held up the orange juice. 'I was half expecting it to explode in my hands. I think I'm going to be able to have you and not feel you're dying. As to what powers it? Well again you don't really need to know do you? It's magic. Yes… that's what it is. A secret magical hiding place which no one can enter unless I've programmed it to let you in. Or out.' Floyd walked to the kitchen doorway and looked around for Sam. Seeing that he was probably in the shower he returned to Spencer and put the carton on the counter. 'Sam is a loose cannon. I don't totally trust him not to turn against us if he feels that the chips aren't falling the way he wants. I don't want him wandering in and out of this place in a tantrum. You though, I trust. However, things will work out far nicer for us if you two get along. You understand that don't you? I know he's a nasty mouthed little shit sometimes but he's _my_ nasty little shit and I think if we can keep him away from temptation then we can attempt to mould him to be a better person. What do you think?'

'I think that trust is something which is earned. I think that if you hold back information from people then trust is going to be damaged. I think that if there is danger then you should inform me of it. I need to be prepared. I don't know if you're keeping things from me because you don't think I'll understand or if it's because you are lacking in trust. I don't know if it's because you don't understand it yourself and so wont risk looking a fool by giving information which proves to be incorrect. I think, Floyd that you need to tell me what this place is and why we are here. I don't believe that it has anything to do with parenting Sam. Something very strange has been happening to you and again I don't think you understand fully what it was. It worried you. You need to learn to confide in people if you are worried or if there is something going on you don't understand, because maybe, just maybe I'm not as stupid as you imagine I am. Maybe I'm a bit more understanding. Maybe I wont laugh at you when you're feeling insecure. Perhaps you need someone you can tell things to who you _know_ wont mock you for or go reporting you for. I know that you killed Teevy. I know that you killed Mrs Teevy. I know that you ran a couple of people down when you took my car.'

Floyd leaned on the counter on his elbows and rested his head in his hands. 'You might be right about a lot of things, but I didn't kill Mrs Teevy. Nope. Wasn't me. That was Sam.'

For a minute maybe there was silence, which was only disturbed by the bubbling of the coffee machine and then Spencer spoke again. 'Just so you know. I'm ready to listen. I'll try to understand.'

'We've only just arrived, Spence. I want to at least wash the desert dust off my face before we get into the what's and where's of this place. I'm tired and I want to explain things properly and Sam needs to listen too. He understands some, but far from all of it. I think he knows what this place is. But Sam gets shit wrong. He doesn't always listen.'

Spencer sat on a kitchen stool and sighed. 'Am I a prisoner? Can I leave if I want to? How long do you intend staying?'

'No, yes, I dunno, days, months, years? I don't know. When he time is right I guess and that, Spencer is going to depend on Sam and what he can do. He has a very special talent which he'd been extremely lazy with. I want him to practice whilst we are here and see if he can oil out those rusty spots. Let me show you something. Sam doesn't know about this and so keep it between the pair of us. Yes I know what you said about secrets and trust, but _you_ have to trust me too. And you have to keep your mouth firmly shut about this. Sam's too unstable to deal with it right now. He'll fuck up. He'll get us all killed. So I'm going to need a promise from you Spencer.' Floyd lifted his head and looked at Reid.

'OK… a promise. I'll not say anything to Sam.'

'What wont you tell me?' Sam hissed from the doorway where he'd just appeared.


	39. Chapter 39

39

Spencer and Floyd looked over at the dripping form in the door way. Spencer immediately looked away again, but Floyd stared. Maybe it was rude to stare at the naked dripping wet young man in the doorway, but Floyd felt his eyes welded to the scene. Sam stood with one hand resting on the door frame and the other rubbing at his hip. He'd pushed his wet hair off his face, and apart from the dripping water that was all he had on.

If you'd asked Spencer if what was standing there held any beauty, Spencer would deny it. He'd say he'd not looked closely enough and didn't wish to look closely enough. He'd turned his back and was pouring coffee, but was aware that Floyd's head was cocked slightly to the side but that his hands had closed into fists at his side.

Ask Floyd if what he saw standing in the doorway was beautiful and he might blink and try to remember exactly what it was he was looking at, because although it appeared that Floyd was staring hard at Sam… although Sam could see Floyd's dark eyes drift over his body and eye him up big time, Floyd wouldn't remember, because what Floyd was actually looking at wasn't Sam as such, but the water.

'You're wet.' Floyd finally pointed out.

'Wet and ready. Like the well loved slut I am.' Sam tried to flash a grin but his face hurt still and he ended up wincing.

'Tell me that you arrived at the doorway dry and suddenly for no reason other than this place is a bit strange sometimes, you became wet.'

Sam now also cocked his head slightly to the side. Floyd was losing his mind. Sam was sure of it. 'I had a shower.'

'And so there are wet foot prints all down the length of the corridor. Drips and marks and now you're causing a puddle to form where you're standing. You're either suffering from a brain malfunction and have forgotten that I cannot abide things like that, or you're trying to make me kill you.'

Sam took a quick step back away from the kitchen doorway. 'But I wouldn't have looked as good if I was dry and what is it you wont tell me.'

'I'm not and Spencer is not, going to tell you if you're still alive on the next page. May I suggest that you don't move a fucking _inch_! You are making it worse! Spencer get me a cloth for the love of Pluto and don't stand there making out nothing is going on here. For fucking fuck Sam! Stand the fuck still!'

But Sam turned tail and ran. He legged it back down the corridor, slid sideways almost losing his footing and bolted through the bathroom door. Floyd thought he might have heard something like 'You only want me out of the way so you can fuck Spencer on the kitchen counters!' But if Sam had said that Floyd would maybe have to go down there and show him why there was a wheel chair in the lounge.

Spencer placed a cloth into Floyd's hand.

'You should wait.' Spencer told Floyd. 'Don't do this now. Let Sam clean up his own mess. As you said before he has to learn and you were going to show me something.'

The effect of Spencer's words were absolute. Floyd dropped the cloth on the floor and reached out for Spencer. He grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in close. A quick grind was all he wanted right now. Just something to show Spencer just how much he loved… appreciated… him. Spencer… his Spencer…

'You're right. With me. The armoury.'

Sam was still drying off and occasionally kicking at the bathroom door but at least Spencer and Floyd knew where he was. Floyd punched in a security code on the armoury door and didn't bother shielding it from Spencer. He'd not go so far as actually telling him the code – Sam might just have heart failure if he discovered that – but Floyd was not going to stop Spencer from seeing it. Spencer he trusted with guns. Sam he didn't. The door slid open to reveal a slightly oblong room with metal cabinets lining the walls and a large table set in the middle. There were no obvious signs of weapons, but Reid knew this place was here and knew that most of the locked drawers were long empty.

'Why was this place so well equipped?' Spencer asked as the door slid shut behind them.

Floyd turned and locked the door again and then glanced around the room. 'Well there was a time where big things which caused a lot of damage from a distance were more necessary than maybe in the world we live in today. Or maybe it's because as of yet this place hasn't been to where those big rapid fire guns and flame throwers are needed. When they are and if they are then they will fill again. As I told you… this place is pure magic. We aren't in the armoury to look at guns though.' Floyd walked to the back wall and pushed aside a metal cabinet. Spencer could see now that it had a tiny set of wheels on the bottom which run in minute grooves in the floor. Behind the cabinet was another locked door.

'Now remember that this is between the two of us. I'll show you this, let you have a think about it all and what it means and what it _can_ mean if I could get Sam to concentrate on it hard enough and… well it could well be a life saver. But this isn't the only reason I've come to this place. That's the multiplicity of this little bolt hole. It has all you'll ever want… all you've ever wanted and all you ever need. Unless of course you're called Sam… because then you'll never have what you want. You have to know what that thing is first before it can be delivered.' Floyd clicked the buttons on the electronic lock. 'Before we go in Spence – what in your wildest dreams, if you were asked for that one wish that you could have, you know? What would you wish for?'

Spencer gave a small lazy smile, but didn't answer.

'And I must tell you…' Floyd returned the smile. '… that if you touch _anything_ in this room I will have to break both your arms and snap your fingers. No mistake.'

Spencer slipped his hands into his pockets. 'Just in case.' He muttered.

Reid had expected this to follow on from the armoury. It would make sense that it would. It would be full of high powered weaponry of some nature. Rocket launchers, something hideously radioactive or nuclear. He was prepared for this. He had no intention of blowing himself up by touching something he shouldn't and starting off a countdown to blowing up the world.

As the door slid quietly open, a light the other side flickered slightly and then steadied. Floyd tapped Spencer on the arm and then walked through the door. Reid followed.

The room was roughly fifty foot long. They came into it in the south-east corner facing the other long wall. The short walls were probably ten foot long. It was more of a gallery than a room. The door hissed behind them and Spencer just stood where he was, not touching anything but the inside of his pockets and looking around for the door out of this room and onwards to where Floyd was going to take him. This couldn't be what he was keeping secret from Sam. The walls were covered in clocks.

'Clocks.' Spencer muttered.

One wall had a work bench against it. It had the insides of clocks littering it. All of them seemed to be analogue. Nothing digital here, but they appeared to be ticking. The sound of the _tick, tick, tick_ from the hundreds of clocks seemed to eat right into Spencer's head. Floyd was saying something but pulling back from listening to the ticking, which now had changed and morphed more like the sound of mechanical breaths was over powering. It made Spencer feel light headed and woozy. It felt like he was standing somewhere sacred. Somewhere where he shouldn't be standing but should be on his knees. He should be begging… apologising for existing.

'Breathe.' Floyd spoke into Spencer's ear. 'Just take deep breaths.'

'What… what is this?' He wanted to reach out and grab hold of Floyd and demand that he let him out of the room. 'I shouldn't be here.' He whispered and dug his hands further into his pockets.

'Each clock has a partner. Take a closer look. The partners wont be together, so you'll have to go have a right careful look.'

Spencer thought it a far better idea to keep his back glued to the door. 'Really Floyd, I shouldn't be here.' There seemed to be under that mechanical breathing and the ticking, a voice whispering… _Get out… Get out… Get out._

'You're here because I trust you. Now get your back off the door and go look at them. Tell me what you see.' Floyd walked down towards the workbench. If there was anything in _his_ head demanding that he left, he was showing no sign of it.

'Clocks. Nothing digital. Some aren't working properly.' Spencer said as he began to walk down the length of the room and look at the clocks on the wall. 'Some are running backwards, some are going too fast… some – the second hands seem to be going much too slow. What is this place Floyd? This room? What's all this for? Why cant I tell Sam?'

Floyd turned from the bench. He was holding a small cog from the inside of a clock between two fingers. He held it up for Spencer to see. 'It's a countdown.'

Reid frowned and looked back at the clocks. 'A countdown to what?'

'Everything!'

'You're making no sense. Most of these don't even work.'

'Each and every one is doing exactly what it's meant to do. Sam understands it better than I do. I just know that each has a partner. Each is counting down and each will arrive at the same place at exactly the same time. Each and every mother fucking one of them. Then when they do?' Floyd grinned broadly… 'Well that's not happened yet so I don't know.'

'And what has this got to do with Sam? You said he had a talent which he doesn't use.' Spencer turned and carried on looking at the clocks. He wanted to see the two clocks which partnered each other, but no two appeared to be the same.

'Sam can shift time.' Floyd said. 'I'm sure you knew that. He has a head full of numbers. You knew that too. He can make the most complex calculations by looking at the stars. What is a star?'

'Shift time?' Spencer shook his head. Insanity ruled Floyd. He was talking as though he really believed it. 'A star is a sun.'

'Good. We are getting there… it's a slow slog, but your imagination leaves a lot to be desired. Until you start using that tongue of yours of course. Now tell me what is Sam's given name?' Floyd replaced the cog onto the table and joined Spencer looking at the clocks.

'Sam Trent-Saviour.'

'What is his _given_ name? What did _I_ name him when I chose him?'

'Sam?'

'Nope.'

'Then you're going to have to tell me because I have no idea. I thought his name was Sam. Possibly shortened from Samuel? But you're going to tell me I'm wrong aren't you?'

'I'm going to tell you you're wrong.' Floyd sounded amused. 'I named him after someone, some being. Some fantastical creature who has had a lot of bad press almost since the beginning of time. I'm not for one moment saying that he has any connection to said diabolical creature, but he has some traits which made me think that calling him what I did sort of suited.'

Spencer looked up and down the room trying to find a clue somewhere amongst the clocks. 'It has something to do with time?'

'Nope.'

'Oh for goodness sake Floyd… I think you're going to have to just tell me. I don't know. How am I meant to begin to guess?'

'Thought you were a genius!' Floyd smirked.

'I am. Officially I am, but that doesn't make me a mind reader. I cant know what I've never had available to me to know.'

'Samsaweel.' Floyd whispered.

Spencer didn't know whether to laugh or just turn and walk from the room. 'You named your spawn after a fallen angel?'

'Why not? Seemed fitting at the time. He loves the stars which you pointed out are suns. Have you ever seen him with sun burn or tanned skin? The sun doesn't colour him.'

'That's like calling your child beelz…' Floyd put a hand over Spencer's mouth to stop him finishing what he was saying.

'Well that's not a name to use in polite company is it? And really it's irrelevant. He's known simply as _Sam_ and has been and always will be. The name I gave him is just a small nod at something he'd understand and hopefully admire.'

'As for Sam's talent with time. These clocks are counting down to something – as I said. Not only these, but all the other millions held in special places for reasons which maybe one day Sam will explain… Wait.' Floyd turned back to the table and opened a drawer. He pulled out two small clocks and returned to Spencer's side. He held them out to him. 'Wind them. They're nothing to do with the ones on the wall. You wont blow the world up by doing it.'

Slowly and with caution and a heap load of reluctance, Spencer took the small clocks from Floyd and wound them. 'Do you want me to set the times on them?' He asked. It felt now as though he was fiddling with some priest's holy cups, or a saint's relic.

'Nope. Just wind them. Leave the time as is.' Floyd watched as a patient parent would watch a small child trying to put different shaped blocks into the correct slot. 'Now tell me what you see?'

'One is going backwards.' Spencer mused. 'It's broken.'

'How long before they both say the same time… no… how long before they both say Twelve?'

'I cant tell. The second hands are moving at different speeds.'

Floyd grinned. 'Well let us just say for amusement that it will take twenty one days for the hands on both clocks to reach the same place at the same time. OK?' Spencer nodded. 'What would happen then if I moved one of them back a bit or forwards a bit?'

Again Spencer shook his head. 'It would be impossible to say. As they move at different speeds then moving the hands could either make it take longer or they could arrive in the same place much sooner.'

Now Floyd took the clocks from Spencer. He held one in each hand. 'So you see…' He nodded at the clocks on the wall. '…if they are set to all say the same time, lets say for example, in two years time, on April the Nineteenth… and someone came and changed the time of just one of them… What will happen?'

'No explosion. They wont all say the same time at the same time. They will have to all start again.'

Floyd grinned. 'So there we have lesson number one. I hope you understand better now. You must say _nothing_ of this to Sam. If he came in here and tried to do something the gods only know what will happen.'

'And they are wired to explode? And you know the date and time?'

'No – no to both and all and everything. I'm just repeating how it was explained to me. Now I need a shower and you need to drink a shit load of coffee and then we will relax. Tomorrow… tomorrow will be the day I told you about. The day you will not protest against what I'm going to do.'

Spencer heard the dry click of him swallowing back bile creeping up into his throat. 'Tomorrow. What are you going to do with those clocks?'

'Sam.'

o-o-o

Sam stood outside the armoury wearing a pair of blue hot pants with a pretty frill on the back, a pair of chunky red boots, over the knee red and white striped socks, a boob tube to match the boots and a frown on his face. He had his hair tied back and a red butterfly clip in his hair. Sam thought he looked OK. Not wonderful, but not too bad either. He waited with his arms folded, trying to listen to what Floyd and Spencer were up to alone – without him – in the armoury. Whatever it was, they were being mighty quiet about it. They certainly weren't screwing or messing around in that sort of manner. He assumed that they were going over the weapons available. Checking ammo… looking to make sure everything worked. He heard a couple of small noises like a drawer or door swooshing open and closed, which to Sam confirmed his thoughts and made it certain that the pair of them were going to exit the armoury carrying guns.

Sam was angry. Sam was fucking about to blow a stack when the door which had been locked to him was opened and Floyd stood there with both eyebrows raised. Sam gave Floyd a quick look over but couldn't _see_ any guns, but that didn't mean that he didn't have something hidden down his sock like Hotchner did. Sam could see though that Floyd was holding a clock in each hand and these he held out for Sam to take.

'Is there not a mirror in the bathroom?' Floyd asked Sam.

'Are you trying to be funny?' Sam snapped back at him. 'And I don't want fucking clocks. I'm done with that shit. And if you think you can make me start messing with them again, then you can think again cos I'm not.' But they were thrust at his chest and so Sam took them cautiously. 'I'm not fucking with this shit anymore. I've done it and each time I get more crapped up. It hurts when I do that stuff. I've got a fucked up eye because of it. I've got this constant ache in my back and my hip feels like I've got glass wedged in there and recently my pelvis has been causing me to lose sleep too. And that's discounting the fact that I sometimes piss blood. You want stuff done with the clocks? Then fucking well do it yourself. And you promised… and I repeat _promised_ me stuff when we got here and it's been very lacking so far. All I can see is coffee and some pizzas. So you're not only trying to get me to do something which is slowly degrading me and hurting me and causing me immense pain but you then wont let me have shit to take the pain away _and_ you've broken a promise you made. And! AND! What the fuck is Spencer laughing at? What's so fucking funny Spencer? Come on I'd love to hear it. I'd love to know what it is about me that you find so bloody amusing. I've more power in my little finger than you'll every have. Don't you ever fucking forget that buddy, cos I think you're forgetting your fucking place! You should be on your damned knees offering me all you have to offer and begging for my god-damned mercy cos I've not even begun to show you how grand I am.' He paused and took in the expressions on Floyd and Spencer's faces. 'What? What is it?'

'Take the clocks and start practicing. That's your place. Your place is under me, dog. Little boy. One day you will look back on this time and see what an absolute jerk you are. I'm not going spell it out to you Sammy boy, but Damn, you mind how you talk to Spencer. And no dope. I made that promise of the provision that you came here quietly and without making a fuss. You made a big fuss. A fucking big fuss. The promise is therefore cancelled. You want treats and toys and candy, then you work for it. Get to your room and start.'

'Oh fuckity fucking fuck! You promised! I was looking fucking forward to it! I fucking need it! I'm going to die of this pain!' Sam clutched at the clocks and gave Spencer another quick glance. 'Oh and you… I apologise for being such a shit that you had to kill me. I'm sorry I got blood all over you. I'm sorry if my brains splattered onto your feet.' Now he glared at Floyd. 'There, I've said it.' He then turned and flounced down to his room, turning at his door and calling back… 'Oh and I think I have a brain tumour or a tumour behind my eye cos I'm going blind. Thought you'd like to know! Thought it would please you!' …through the door and it closed silently behind him. No satisfying childish slam. So he kicked it a couple of times instead.'

'Apology accepted.' Spencer sighed. 'Well that was interesting. He's not in a very good mood.'

'As with everything, I suspect it will get worse before it gets better. Now I must get cleaned up and then relax with some pygmies and my own thoughts. Eat pizza, drink coffee, play games… read. Enjoy. If Sam comes out of his room…' Floyd looked down towards Sam's room, '… well I guess just try not to kill each other.'

Spencer had questions though. He had a pile of them and they were building up with such rapidity that he needed to start asking before those he needed to ask were pushed to the back of his mind. 'Wait… just answer something for me. What was going on with those exploding lightbulbs and whatever it was?'

'I'll explain later. It's faded here. Here is a special place. Outside of everything else.' Floyd squeezed one of Spencer's hands. 'Just relax and have some private time. I'll be a couple of hours. You can amuse yourself for that long?'

Spencer raised an eyebrow. 'I can.' And now a smile. 'Go and do what you need to do, but I will carry on asking questions when you return.'

o-o-o

With Floyd in his room and Sam out of sight the atmosphere changed. It suddenly became a lot less friendly. Spencer spent some time checking out the store rooms. There seemed to be everything there he would ever want to eat. There were also a few suspect things which he thought were probably for Floyd's enjoyment, or Sam's. On a shelf in the larger of the two stores was a bottle of what Spencer thought at first was pickled eggs. He picked it up with the thought to have one and then just stood staring at the contents which were staring right back at him.

'Eyes.' Spencer whispered to himself. A large jar of pickled eyeballs. Various colours. Probably human. He shuddered and put them back quickly with all thoughts of having something to eat gone.

He checked out where he'd left Sam's remains. The shelf was still there obviously but where Spencer had left Sam was just an area lacking dust and the bit of paper with Sam's name written on it. The name Spencer knew him by, not the name Floyd for some sick reason had given him. There was a locked door beyond the large store room. Spencer tried a couple of combinations of numbers on the keypad but the light stayed red. He decided that he didn't want to know what was in there after all.

Spencer showered. Stood outside Sam's room for a while. He could hear faint muttering and maybe sobbing coming from inside, but he didn't disturb him. He also stood outside Floyd's room for a while. He could hear Floyd talking to himself as he always did when he took his magic dust… talking to things floating above him and breaking into song occasionally. Spencer wondered if that was the only time Floyd felt totally relaxed. He wondered if the state Floyd took himself into was actually his most comfortable and natural and if when with Spencer or Sam it was an effort to remain in control. He thought it probably was. He was tempted to go in and sit quietly and watch Floyd as he tried to reach out and brush his fingers over the patterns floating around him, but turned and walked down to the lounge area. There was a couch, a television with a poor picture and lots of games to play. Computer and console games weren't really Spencer's _thing_ though. The couch would take three people comfortably. There was a red wheelchair pushed up against the wall… and the small table in the corner had four chairs. Spencer wondered briefly who the extra chair was for and why, like Sam had asked, was there a wheelchair here. Then for the rest of the time Spencer sat and flicked through a couple of books. He tried very hard to concentrate and read each word aloud, but without someone there to listen it frustrated him. He read them quickly… he'd read them before at some point… he then sat and stared at the wall.

o-o-o

'Is he in his room off his face?'

Sam's voice made Spencer jump out of his trance. He looked over at Sam who was standing in the doorway. He was still wearing what he'd had on earlier, though now it didn't amuse Spencer. Now there seemed to be something very askew and maybe threatening about it.

'He's relaxing.' Spencer then pointed to the games machine. 'Want a game?'

'I'd love a game. Just not with you.' Sam went to leave the room again.

'I'm sorry, Sam.' Spencer said before Sam could leave. 'I know I hurt you and believe me I'd do anything to take back what happened. I just don't know how to make amends for something so dreadful. What is it you want me to do?'

Sam turned back to look at Reid and shrugged. 'I guess I want Floyd as my own. I want you to fuck off and never come back again, but that's not going to happen is it? He's clawed you in and he's done too much now to let you go. If you left he'd just go get you and drag you back again. And then he'd blame me for it and I'd get a slapping for it and have my candy denied. It's not fair, Spencer! I was only doing what he told me to do and when it came back and bit him in the arse he blames me for it. So really there's nothing I want you to do except stop trying to be my friend. I don't want you to like me. I don't want to be your buddy. I certainly don't want to play games with you.' Sam took a couple of steps towards Spencer. 'Will you do something for me?' Spencer nodded. 'Just never look at me. Don't talk to me. Act like I don't exist. That's all I want.' He then spun and left the small lounge again.

Spencer was once again alone. The coffee was cold. The pizza wasn't going to be eaten… not after seeing those bottled eyes and he didn't feel safe to let himself relax to the point of sleeping. Not with Sam wandering around. Not when there were knives in the kitchen. He was just thinking that he'd try the television again when Floyd showed up and threw himself down on the couch next to Spencer.

'It's a strange world.' Floyd muttered. 'When everything runs in a straight line from beginning to end and there's no blips. Has Sam been out of his room?'

'I apologised to him. He's not interested.'

'You shouldn't have. Not your place to. He could use that. Use it to create a blip. A place in the book where you get options. Do you know those adventure books where you get options and you go to the page which follows the option you choose?'

Spencer shook his head. 'No, but I've heard of them.'

'Well Sam could well make notes in the margin of the book… forcing options. You have to be careful. He's only a little shit of a demon, but he's still got stuff… you get?'

'I get.' Spencer answered. 'Can you tell me about how Sam was created? How it happened? How the actual process of spawning works? It might help me to understand Sam's insecurities.'

'Oh, now that is complex. I dunno we have time to go into all the details here and now. I don't want Sam to walk in and hear me talking to you about his creation and think I'm yabbering on behind his back. Maybe wait till he gets back? I'm sure he'll have questions too… until then I think I owe you something. I've been very greedy as of late. Taking you and giving not a lot. So I want you to sit back, relax… and let me show you something amazing I can do with my tongue because you smell of sweet soap and damn, I want to get you all sweaty again.'

Sam stood with his back against his bedroom door. The clocks in pieces around his feet and angry tears racing down his face. A bubble of snot crept out of his nose and popped over his top lip, which he licked at. He pulled off his glasses and tossed them onto his bed. 'I cant do the clocks.' He said quietly to himself. I cant play fucking games. I can hardly fucking _see_! But you'd not notice that, would you? Either of you. Too much up each other's arses – biblically. When's it my turn huh? When are you going to show _me_ some attention?' There was no one to see him, so he didn't bother to throw himself dramatically onto the bed. He walked carefully, bending bits of clock innards under his booted feet and the curled up on his bed.

o-o-o

No one came to see where Sam was. He wasn't sure if that was good or not. He would certainly have shouted abuse at anyone who came knocking for him, but that didn't mean he wanted to be left alone in his misery.

Spencer and Floyd were snuggled up on the couch taking it in turns to read to each other when Sam walked into the room and turned on the television. The picture was wobbly and grainy, but that didn't bother Sam.

Floyd was taking his turn to read and so closed the book and placed it on the floor and then tapped Sam on the shoulder.

'Turn that off for a while, Sam. We are going to sit and I'm going to tell you a short story.'

'I'm not interested in your fantasies or sick perverted needs.' Sam hissed back at Floyd.

'Well I thought you might as it involves you quite a bit.' Floyd replied.

The television screen went black. The sound cut out. Sam crawled up onto the couch, pushing Floyd and Spencer apart so that he could sit between them. 'Fine. If you insist. Make it quick.' A story involving Sam. Now that _did_ interest him. He leaned in so that he was tight against Floyd and pulled his feet onto the couch, pushing Spencer away with his boots.

'Right… here goes. Everyone comfortable? Do we want snacks first? No? OK… Just stop me at any point if you need me to repeat or explain something better. My official job, when down here is as a collector.'

Sam interrupted. 'I thought this was going to be about me.'

'Wait.' Floyd said in a patient and almost friendly tone. 'I'm a collector. I collect for _Them_. I'm a small, very small and very insignificant cog in a very big and very complex wheel. It's like playing a game. You collect so many points and you get a prize… or you get a box ticked to let you know that you're on your way. Different things get different extras. Different – erm – beings are allowed different things. One of the things I get, which can sometimes be a fucking nuisance is that part of me splits. Only a tiny very small part of me. It hurts. It hurts like fucking hell on earth. I get nose bleeds, bleeds on the brain, shit like that, and though I know when that happens that I'm actually doing something right, I'd rather, sometimes, that it didn't happen. This tiny bit of me looks like a small blood sucking leech. It's only want of need in life is to feed and they are ravenous little bastards too. I go back occasionally, when I've been having a load of bad headaches and nosebleeds, I go back and I stomp on the fuckers. I take the lot of them out. I don't want a billion little slug like things all wanting to feed offa me. Some I leave though. I leave them and I watch them grow. They are like a foetus growing outside a womb. Watch them for long enough and feed them enough and you can see tiny arms and legs forming. Little faces with teeth and eyes appear. Still not too late to stamp on them though, but they fascinate me. A few I will allow to actually carry on growing. They have no minds. They're empty things made to serve me. They're black. Black as the night. Some become almost human looking and some more canine in appearance. I have no idea why some do one thing and some another. But they're not really sentient. They're mindless servants who feed on blood and shit.'

'You've still not mentioned me.' Sam moaned.

'Wait… I'm coming to it.' Floyd rubbed a hand over Sam's leg and smiled. 'Well I recruited this thing. It was a cute thing. A small demon who seemed sad and lost and sort of pitiful – There… I've mentioned you… Anyway, I recruited you to keep down the spawn things and in return for you keeping my place clear I gave you stuff to keep you happy. And I screwed you until you passed out. I left you there with them. You didn't exactly do what I'd expected you to do. You ate a lot of them. A hell of a lot of them. I thought you'd just stomp the things as they popped into existence, but no, you decided that eating them was a far better idea. Now this was a problem in a way, because as I said, all of those little things were partly me. Eat enough of someone like me and you run the risk of…'

'OOH!' Sam's eyes lit up.

'You began to absorb my DNA as such. You began the slow process of becoming less of you and a bit too much like me. I had to remove you. Your black skin had bleached white. Your glowing red eyes had become dark and intelligent. You had skills which seemed to come from nowhere… an ability with numbers and a love for all sorts of shit I didn't understand. I went to the boss and put in a request to be allowed to take you down. It was granted. You'd become loud and demanding and they're were tired of you. But everyone has a special something they can do and mine is this electronics shit and a great killing ability… and other shit which I don't even think about… You were given the time shifting thing. I don't think they realised quite how powerful you'd already become. I don't think they thought for one second that you'd actually be able to figure out how to do it. But it was there. A latent skill which they considered useless, but I saw great advantage of. Their loss. My gain.' Floyd looked at Spencer. 'Any questions?' Spencer slowly shook his head. 'Sam?'

'If they are all knowing and all being and all everything, how didn't they know how wonderful I was?'

'Because they assumed that you were like everything else. They didn't realise quite how much you'd changed. They didn't realise that you'd been eating my spawn for a millennia. They were lazy and didn't bother checking shit and now you're this… this drug loving whore… you have cast aside that great thing you can do… a thing which even as a small unwanted lesser demon, you managed to conceal from them. You would rather have things stuffed up your arse and in your mouth than know that you have the skill and power in you to change the whole future of the world.'

Sam rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. 'So…'

'So you get your skinny arse back to your room and get working.'

'No wait… I lived away from you though. You just came to visit for years… I remember. Iolanda would tie me to a tree and I'd… I'd live like a dog.'

'He was there to teach you how to interact with people.'

'He pimped me out.'

'That's interaction isn't it?'

'Yes but you let him!'

'You never fucking complained! At least not at first and by the time you started complaining you were moaning about every damned thing.'

'So I'm partly you?'

'You are partly me. I am partly you… we are part of the same thing. And because of that. I want you to get along with Spencer, because he means a hell of a lot to me and this continual lashing out is pissing me off. You sonny boy are treading on thin ground by constantly making waves where they're not necessary.'

Sam nodded. 'I understand.' He sat up and turned to Spencer. 'I'm really sorry for all the shit I put you through. I totally understand why you hate me. I will keep my opinions to myself when I'm pissed off and I'll not show any jealousy or anger when Floyd favours you over me. I know why you cracked my head in and I accept that though you were looking right into my eyes when I was screaming and squirting blood and brains everywhere, that you didn't realise that it was me! I understand that you're a total fucking lack whit who clings a hold of Floyd because your own mother doesn't always recognise you, your father abandoned you, and your work mates think you're a disgusting fag.'

'Enough!' Floyd shouted.

'What! I'm apologising!' Sam shouted back. 'And if you want me to do that clocks and shit then you'd best be a bit nicer to me. You're a fucking bullshitting motherfucking cunt! I hate you both! I detest you so much I feel puke coming up in my throat. You're abusive users. Spencer likes being smacked around and hurt by you and you like getting off your face and then coming out with stupid fucking fairy stories about leeches and fuck knows what because you're still tripping! I hate you both and I hope you both die in hell with dicks up each others arses.'

Sam left the room.


	40. Chapter 40

40

Sam had left the room leaving behind him a waft of over active hormones. Spencer looked in the direction Sam had gone and then at the back of Floyd's head wondering why he wasn't following and crushing Sam against the wall somewhere.

'He fails to understand the implications of what he does. He doesn't understand what he has the power to do. Why is he such a stubborn little shit? Why cant he just sit and listen and do what I tell him to do? What the fuck is _wrong_ with him?' Floyd said as he stayed sitting on the couch.

Spencer didn't move and his words were almost whispered. 'He wants to feel wanted and loved.'

'I _do_ love him! I've told him I do. I've explained that shit to him. It's not easy trying to please that boy all the time. I've never been a parent.'

Reid interrupted him. 'You have, actually and you made a good parent too.'

'No Spencer, I was a bloody terrible parent. I ate my daughter. Not in a sexual way, but in a - she's dead and she tasted nice - sort of way.' Floyd was still looking in the direction Sam had gone. 'I'm going to have to say something to you which I don't like saying.' Floyd now turned to look at Spencer. 'I'm sorry babes. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm going to have to do something which is going to hurt you and I really do need to keep Sam on side. He wants my attention. He wants to feel loved and wanted and I'm going to have to give him that.' Floyd watched Spencer's face carefully. 'It's got nothing to do with tripping. It's nothing to do with anything you've done babes. I'd crush that maggot in my fist sooner than hurt you – if I could, but that's not how this is going to play out. I _need_ Sam to trust me and to listen to me and if the only way he will believe that is for me to either kill you or fuck him, then I'm going to take the less painful course, and maybe a slightly more enjoyable one – for me at least.' Floyd saw every muscle in Spencer's body ready it self to run. He heard that small noise which Spencer makes when scared out of his mind and he saw the way he flinched slightly from Floyd's touch. 'Tomorrow, Spencer… Tomorrow I'm going to show you how much I love, trust, adore and need you. Today, I'm going to go to Sam and give him what he's craving… not the drugs… but me. I want you to go to your room and sleep. I'll come to you later.'

Spencer's head slowly dipped as though his head suddenly became much too heavy to hold up. 'You're scared of him aren't you?' Spencer asked Floyd whilst looking at his hands twisting in his lap. 'You think he's going to do something and you'll be unable to stop him, that you'll go back and ask _Them_ to fix things and it will be _you_ in trouble to allowing Sam to be what he is and for hiding things from _them_.'

Floyd stood up and gave Spencer a look through narrowed eyes. 'This is a place which exists outside of most other things. Here we are nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Yes you might be correct in some sense, Sam bothers me. What Sam can do bothers me. If he can still do it, that is, and I'm not sure that he can. What happens here, stays here.'

'If it bothers you, why nag him to practice it?'

'Because I'm dreadful at skipping forward in books when I read. I read the back page.'

But the book thing was just a thing to try to explain something which made no sense. Spencer was still confused. 'You've had a premonition?'

Floyd smiled a lazy and none too happy smile.

'Are you _sure_ you weren't, as Sam said, tripping? Having a dream when under the influence?'

'Absolutely no idea. Maybe, maybe not. You want me to risk it? I'm going to go fuck Sam. It will ease his pain and help him feel a bit more wanted. You need to sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day for you. I want you to know what's going on and what you're saying. I don't want you babbling and crying and telling me you need more time to think.'

So the man Spencer was sure he loved walked away to have sex with the teenager who Spencer loathed beyond measure. This was meant to be a precursor to a good night's sleep? Spencer wasn't sure how that was going to happen… and the veiled promises of violence and likely death on the morrow wasn't filling Spencer with much joy or hope either.

o-o-o

The bedrooms were not all that exciting. There was a large bed in each and each also had a wooden chest pushed against the wall. It was at this that Sam was kneeling. He'd lifted the lid and with elbows resting on the ledge he was looking in. He didn't look up when Floyd walked in. He didn't look around when he heard Floyd sit on his bed, or even bother to turn and see what Floyd was doing when he heard the double thump of boots being dropped on the floor. He pretended Floyd wasn't there, but closed his eyes so he didn't have to see what was in the chest.

'What you got?' Floyd eventually muttered.

'I'd estimate that there are over a thousand clocks in here.' Sam now turned to look at Floyd who was sitting with his elbows on his knees watching Sam closely.

'Spencer has books in his.' Floyd commented.

'Like that's going to interest me; unless I feel the over powering urge to read a book. Which is unlikely considering reading makes my head feel like someone is chipping away at my skull. What's in yours?'

Floyd ignored the question. 'Come here.' He put his hands out to Sam. 'I can help make you feel better.'

'You're not that good.' Sam spat back at him. 'You lie and shit all over everyone.'

'And for now it's just the two of us. Tell me what you need. Come and talk to me. Just the two of us.'

Sam didn't stand but half crawled across the room and then pulled himself up onto the bed. 'I know you think I'm a moaning brat, but it's only because most of the time I'm in screaming agony.'

Floyd sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. 'I know you are Sam. I pick up on your pain. I know you're hurting. I can help.'

'I don't want to mess with the clocks, Floyd. They make it so much worse. They eat away at my bones and inside my head. Even looking at them makes me want to scream. Why cant I just be what I want to be?'

'And you want to walk the dirty streets looking for sex from anything or anyone which will offer it to you? You want to save up your dirty money and then hand it over to some fucker for a bit of poisoned pleasure you can stick in your veins? You want to rot away from the inside doing that sort of thing?'

Sam pulled his feet up onto the bed. There was a loud _crack_ sound which Floyd assumed was Sam's hip protesting. 'You make what I want sound so dirty. How is it different from what you do? I know you go paying for it when Spencer's not available. I know you've even taken money when you get the chance, but you don't like to admit it. I know that those back streets and rooms are something you like, and I know that you enjoy getting off your face sniffing crap up your nose, which will once day rot and fall off, so why is what you do OK and what I do bad?'

'Maybe because that's all I have. Fucking is my talent.'

Sam let out a small laugh. 'Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Floyd. You forget that I know you better than that.'

'Well can I just try to persuade you differently? Maybe give you an example of my talent?'

Now Sam pushed back further onto the bed. He lay back and rested his head on a soft pillow. 'I'd rather you didn't.' This was feeling good. Turning Floyd down felt wonderful. 'Go back to Spencer. His arse is probably all oiled up and ready for you. I only work for cash.'

'I'll pay you later. Turn over.'

'Fuck off Floyd. You cant go treating someone like you do then expect them to roll over and present their arse to you. Your ego is out of proportion of your ability to please. I don't want you. I don't want you touching me. I don't want…' He paused his speech as Floyd flipped him onto his stomach. 'Just so you know, when you're doing me, it's not cos I want you to. I would consider what… what… what you're doing… with… is that your hand? Bloody shitting hell! Floyd!'

o-o-o

Those words echoed down the corridor. 'Bloody shitting hell! Floyd!' and they rammed their way into Spencer's ears making his eyes water. He couldn't sit in the lounge listening to this. He stood and walked quick angry steps down to Sam's room. He was going to hammer on the door and tell them to stop. He was going to barge on in and tear Sam away and kick him till he stopped that damn moaning and begging. He stepped back away from the door with his hand raised in a fist and then turned and went to his own room. At least that way there were two doors between the cries and yelps and not just the one. He buried himself under the bedclothes and put a pillow over his head and made a wet snotty patch on the sheet next to his nose. He slipped quickly into what once had been a nightmare but now was more of a dream or a fantasy where he pummelled Sam to death with his own fists. In this particular dream though, he went a step further and stuck a clock up, where he was sure Sam thought the Sun _did_ shine.

He felt someone join him in the bed. He felt the bed clothes being moved and someone slipping down next to him. He could smell it was Floyd. He could feel Floyd's hands touching and probing and feeling around. A Floyd who was sweaty and sticky from fucking Sam. A Floyd who had a faint smell of roses about him, where it had rubbed off from Sam's skin. He could feel that Floyd had not only removed his shirt but his boots too, but there was that rough feel of this jeans and the digging of the belt still there.

'Get off.' Spencer muttered. 'You're still wet from Sam.'

'I know.'

'I can smell him on you.' Spencer attempted to roll over but Floyd had a tight hold of his hips and kept him firmly in place for a couple of minutes before letting Spencer go and pulling him over onto his back. Floyd leaned in and kissed Spencer lightly on the mouth. Floyd had half been expecting the reaction he got. It was a good one! Too good not to have risked. Spencer pushed Floyd away and brought a knee up ready to give Floyd a gift between the legs. 'Damn you!' Spencer spat. 'You could have cleaned your teeth first!' He rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand trying to get rid of the taste of Sam, Floyd had planted there. 'You disgusting animal!' Spencer cried out.

'Oh don't exaggerate. You love it really.' Floyd smirked as he sat across Spencer's hips and teased him to a delicious and forgiving point by rocking slowly back and forth.

o-o-o

Sam wasn't sleeping when Floyd snuck out of his room, taking his boots and shirt with him. The shirt was slung lazily over Floyd's shoulder so if there was anything on his back Sam still couldn't see what it was, and the chance to look when Floyd had been giving him the attention he'd been craving hadn't happened either. Sam sat up in bed and looked at the closed door. He had an idea. He had a brilliant idea. And it would make Floyd listen to him. It would make Spencer listen to him. He would demand to be let go. Relieved of the servitude he felt he was under. He would ask to be returned to _Them_. He'd have a better chance of showing them how great he was. He would whore for the best of them and they'd keep him close. He could become a consort to _Them_ and at last be loved and admired by who really mattered. He pulled his clothing back on again but left off the boots, but he rummaged through his bag and pulled out a small shoulder bag and a small black leather wallet which he slipped into the bag. Then he walked quietly down the passageway, pausing briefly at Spencer's door. Floyd was there with him. He could hear him. He could hear Them together in there. It made Sam's vision go fuzzy for a moment and his mind scream abusive things at him, but he turned and carried on walking whilst wiping the annoying wet stuff off his face.

As he reached the door to the armoury he stopped and stood just looking at the door locked against him and then at the lock on the door. It was a push button combination lock with the numbers from one to ten etched into them. A red unblinking light was set in the top right corner of the panel. Sam hunkered down and inspected it. Had he been Floyd he could have just run his fingers over it and the correct combination would automatically been accepted, but that was not something Sam could do.

Sam had other talents and skills though and one of those undoubtedly was a skill with numbers. He'd been around Floyd long enough to observe which numbers he would use for certain things. Floyd used odd numbers. Sam wiggled closer to the panel and inspected it even closer. He cursed his slightly fuzzy vision because he was unable to tell if certain buttons had been used more than others, but that was fine. He could ignore all the even numbers and he could ignore zero. Floyd liked the number seven, so Sam put that one up first in his head. He thought that the number five wouldn't be used, but three would and so would nine. That was three numbers… and that was how many Sam thought would have been used. Nothing too complex. Now all he had to decide was which order to put them in.

'Nothing too complex but something his stupid simple mind would do without thinking, without knowing he'd done it. Seven multiplied by nine divided by three…' that was the basic calculation Sam thought Floyd would have used… 'Twenty one.' Sam hissed to himself. 'Three sevens are twenty one. Two plus one is three. There are three of us. Three multiplied by it self is nine. Nine is the random but necessary number. But still the actual order wasn't sure. 'Three would come last.' Sam bit down on his bottom lip and considered it again. 'Now I have seven and nine. Which is first? Which would he use?' Sam's finger wavered over the seven and then pushed lightly. The red light turned amber. 'Well, well, well… hullo there.' Sam smiled. 'We have lift off.' He pressed the nine making the amber light blink. 'What a fucking idiot that man is.' Sam smirked to himself as he pressed the three and watched the amber light turn green. 'First try and I'm in.' As he stood the door silently opened. 'Floyd Flanders Franks, you are going to regret the day you shat all over me.' He stepped into the room, let the door close behind him and locked it from the inside.

Sam stood with his back to the door and looked around at all of the locked doors and drawers. These though had mechanical locks, and that suited Sam just fine. He delved down into his bag and pulled out the black wallet. Held inside were a few small handy dandy lock picks and tools of the burglary trade which Sam had used on more than one occasion. There seemed like no obvious place to start his search so he decided to just go around the room in order, starting with the small locked drawer nearest to the door.

'Fucking fucking eyes.' Sam groaned and pulled a small jewellers eye glass out of his bag, pushed his glasses out of the way and used that to get a better look at what he was doing. 'Child's play.' Sam said with a smile as the lock clicked open. The eye glass was on a leather thong, so Sam let it fall around his neck and pulled his glasses back on again, pulled open the drawer and looked inside. It was empty apart from a bit of moulded sponge which had the indented shape of a hand gun. Sam inhaled. There was no sign that Floyd had opened this. All was safe. All was good. Sam closed it, locked it and moved on to the next.

Drawer number seven. 'I should have guessed. I'm as big a fucking lame brain as Spencer sometimes.' The drawer held a lovely revolver. He lifted it out and looked at it using the eye glass. It was beautiful. So beautiful in so many ways. He turned it over in his hands as though it was the Holy Grail it self and looked lovingly at the engraving which told Sam what he already knew. 'Python .357 Magnum.' It was said like a prayer. 'Double action… six inch barrel… polished steel. I'm going to come in my pants.' Sam checked the chambers. It was loaded in all six. 'Don't die of happiness now.' Sam told himself. 'Save that for later.' He carefully placed the gun in his bag and then closed the drawer, locked it and checked that he'd left no obvious signs that he'd touched anything. He then sat on the floor and pulled the gun out again. 'Oh my fucking god… I am going to have such a laugh…' He pointed the pistol at his own face and kissed the end of the barrel. 'I love you.' He whispered.

It was a quick move back to his room. He didn't want Floyd to catch him coming out of the armoury. He'd be dead before he could blink if Floyd thought he'd been nosing around where he shouldn't have been. Had Sam spent more time in there he might have seen that the shelves at the other end of the room moved. He might have pushed them away and found the hidden door. He might even have gone through that door and seen the clocks. And that would have been very bad. He kept the gun in the bag but removed the lock picks and put them right at the bottom of his back pack. If Floyd rummaged, Sam didn't want it to seem obvious that he'd used them or even looking at them recently. The gun was left in the bag and he slid that under the bed with a small pile of clothes on the floor covering the place. 'Best to be safe.' Sam muttered.

He then walked down to the kitchen with a grumpy look on his face and purposefully burnt some toast and let the smell waft down the corridor. He then mixed powdered egg and found frozen bacon and made him self something to eat. Something he didn't want and something he would puke up later, but for now he needed to cover up any smell of gun or grease he might have on him. He washed his hands in strong smelling soap and then sat at the table and ate slowly.

'Today… Today is the day.' Sam said as he pushed his empty plate away. The food felt heavy in his stomach as he rubbed at it and curled his top lip. 'I'm going to puke.'

o-o-o

He did puke. He puked long and hard and when he'd finished he stayed kneeling in front of the toilet bowl until something touched the back of his neck. It was Floyd. He knew it was. Floyd had found the gun. Floyd was going to kill him. He was going to die looking at his brains go down the toilet.

'You Ok there?'

Floyd sat on the bathroom floor next to Sam.

'I feel ill.' Sam moaned back. 'But no worries. I probably didn't cook the bacon enough.' He turned a pale sweaty face to look at Floyd.

'The swelling is gone.' Floyd told him. 'How's the jaw?'

'Great. My jaw its super wonderful. I thank you. My arse though is super sore. I thank you for that also.'

Two deep frown lines formed on Floyd's brow. 'You want to be left alone?'

'Yes.' Sam lied. What he wanted was to be hugged and for Floyd to remove all this hate he was feeling. Floyd shouldn't have to ask if he needed a hug.

There was a slow nod from Floyd. 'Well I've things I need to do today. In the infirmary. I'll be there if you need me. Anything I can get you?'

'Out of my life. Get out of my face. Get your arse probing hands off me. Next time I want to be fisted I'll let you know. Until then fuck off.'

'I thought…' Floyd stood as he spoke…

'Too much way, way fucking too late.' Sam said.

'We can…'

'You asked. I answered. Fuck off and leave me alone.'

'I'd kill a man for talking to me like that.' Floyd spat at the back of Sam's neck.

'Well go on then. I'm not stopping you.' If he had more to say it was cut off by more retching and puking. Floyd took a few steps back and nodded slowly.

'I'll be in the infirmary.' He repeated as he turned and was about to leave the bathroom when he spun around again and took a couple of long strides back to where Sam was leaning over the toilet. His hair was hanging down either side of his neck. Floyd stood with his head cocked to one side looking at the back of Sam's neck. He then reached down and grabbed the leather thong still hanging around Sam's neck. 'What the fuck is this?'

Sam let out a surprised gagging, spluttering sound as Floyd dragged him back away from the bowl. 'A…'

'I know what the fuck it is. I want to know why you're wearing it. What are you up to Sammy boy?'

He knew. Floyd knew. He didn't know _how_ Floyd knew but he did. Sam was sure of it. Floyd must have poked his mind around in side of Sam's head and found out. He had to think and think fast, but it wasn't easy with Floyd pulling him back and choking him whilst puke filled his mouth and downright terror filled his head. 'It's a…' He tired again.

'I know! I know what it is… Why've you got it on boy? What have you been doing when I wasn't watching you?'

'Clocks!' Sam howled out. 'I was looking at the clocks and trying to get them to work.'

'What fucking clocks?' Floyd pulled harder and the leather thong snapped, releasing Sam from Floyd's grasp.

Sam scuttled forwards on his knees letting go of what was in his mouth and emptying what was left of his stomach contents down his front. 'The ones in the chest in my room!' He managed to reply. What other clocks would Floyd be thinking of?

'Ah.' Floyd muttered. 'Well when you've cleaned up in here get back to them.' Satisfied, Floyd turned and left the bathroom again. He had other things on his mind today. He couldn't be bothered with Sam's antics. Today Floyd's head was full of excited babbling.

Whilst Sam curled up on the bathroom floor and allowed himself to cry in panic over what had seemed to Sam such a close call, Floyd wandered off to locate Spencer.

o-o-o

Floyd led a nervous Spencer through the storage room to the door he'd seen previously. It had a combination lock and Spencer saw that Floyd's fingers glanced over 793, which had been the same numbers as on the armoury door. He gave a small smile at this, but it was a very small smile and probably not noticed by anyone unless they knew Spencer very well.

'What's so amusing?'

Floyd knew him very well it would seem. 'Nothing. I'm nervous.'

'No need.' The door slid to the side and a bright white light glared out at them. 'Ta Da!' Floyd gave Spencer an encouraging prod. 'Go on in. It's not going to kill you, promise.'

So Spencer walked forwards, when he wanted to turn and run. His knees seemed to turn to something made of jello and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Not what he expected. It was what looked to be an operating theatre or maybe a place for autopsies. 'What?' He managed to say, before Floyd grabbed a hold of his hand.

'You're going to demand explanations now.' Floyd assumed. 'Well this is how it goes. You know that thing on my back?' Spencer nodded slowly. 'And you know I said No To Tattoos?' Again a nod. 'Well whilst I was thinking of you and what you like and how you roll, I made a decision. Not lightly… well OK initially it was lightly, but it's now become very important to me. You like scars.'

Now Spencer was shaking his head. 'No… NO!'

'And you said no complaints, so what you need to do now is shut that pretty little cocksucking mouth of yours and get on your knees. We are going to go through a bonding process. I'm going to mark you as mine. You will agree to this… not under any duress obviously, as you have in a manner already agreed to this. Why are you shaking your head and why are you still on your feet. All you need to do is go down on your knees and show me that you accept me as your owner.'

'Floyd…'

'Knees, babes. And don't tell me there's a problem with that cos you didn't seem to have a problem getting on them earlier. Come now.'

'And if I don't?' Spencer's voice sighed.

'Then you'll have pissed me off righteously and that's not going to be nice for either of us. Why is everyone so against all I ask them to do for me? Haven't I done things for you? Have I not sacrificed things for you, protected you, loved you, given you all you could wish for?' He rested a hand on Spencer's shoulder and pushed downwards. 'Now show your fucking appreciation by doing this for me. Thank you babes. Now once I asked you if you would be my civil partner. I asked you if you would bond with me.'

'I remember.'

'Good then the rest of this isn't going to be too much of a shock and you've had plenty of time to prepare your responses to me. You ready?' Floyd then knelt down in front of Spencer and took his hands. 'Look me in the eyes and listen and respond. It wont hurt. It's words is all.'

'Then why are we in here?' Spencer wanted to look around the room again, but now he was looking Floyd right in the eyes he found it wasn't possible to tear them away again.

'Hush with questions. I'm going to ask questions. You will answer them. Ready? Good. Spencer, do you promise to be my bondsman?' There was a pause and silence. Floyd asked the question again, only now he was squeezing Spencer's hands in his. 'Spencer, do you promise to be my bondsman?'

'Yes.'

A smile from Floyd. 'Do you promise to do as I tell you and to serve me as I need?'

Spencer wanted to pull his hands away and get the hell out of here, but he felt that he was saying… 'yes…' again.

'Do you promise not to screw around on me and go running off with the first good looking fuck you see?'

'Yes!'

'Do you love me, Spencer?'

Silence.

'Do you love me?'

'Of course.'

'Yes of no.' Floyd squeezed on Spencer's fingers again.

'Yes.'

Floyd leaned in and gave Spencer a quick kiss on the lips. 'The deal is dealt then. We're one. I just need to finalise it and this I'm afraid is why we are here. But I figured that this was the best place.' He stood and pulled Spencer up with him. 'I'm so fucking happy Spencer. You'd have no idea how good you've just made me feel. Now remove your shirt for me and lay face down on that table. I'm going to put my tag on your back. It's going to be sore for a while, but it'll look fucking awesome. Don't offend me now that you're truly mine by saying that you're going to refuse me.'

Spencer slowly shook his head. 'I'd not refuse you, Floyd, but I would ask exactly what it is you're going to do.' He walked slowly towards the shiny stainless steel table.

As Spencer sat on the edge of the table feeling that he'd just agreed to be filleted, Floyd pulled over a small metal trolley with a row of knives on it. 'I am going to make a pattern on your right shoulder blade. It will be approximately six inches square. I'll make it look good, don't worry. Everything is sterilised and clean. I'll then cover it in antibiotic ointment and stick a covering over it. I'm not inking you. I said I'd not do that. I'm going to be careful and you're not going to struggle or scream or make a fuss, because that would make me wonder if the words you just said to me were lies and that just wouldn't do. You don't want to go breaking my heart before the honeymoon do you? Take your shirt off. Lay down on your front. They wont be deep cuts babes. Just small things. Just deep enough to scar you for an eternity and beyond. I'll cut out small slithers of flesh in places, but most of it will just be clean cuts. You'll likely not even know it's there. Good… now either arms under your head to be comfortable, or by your sides.' He stroked fingers slowly over the side of Spencer's face. 'Let me know if it gets too much and we can have a break. Don't cry Spence! I've not even started yet. I'm a professional skinner.'

'That's what's worrying me.' Spencer replied.

'What I meant was that I can do this with minimum pain and blood loss if you keep still. Trust me.'

'I do.' Spencer told him. He had no option but to trust him.

Stage one consisted of cleaning the area of skin Floyd was going to mark and talking soft comforting words to Spencer. Stage one lasted about five minutes. Really Floyd didn't want Spencer to start moving around and spoiling the whole thing. A brand would have been quicker, but Floyd had never been that taken by burn scars. They were often unpredictable. Something could look good on the metal plate or even when you tested it on a random passer by, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn't go nasty and mank once placed where it was wanted. And as Floyd felt he was good at cutting live flesh, this was the path he decided to take. Stage two involved Spencer crying.

Stage two involved Floyd pacing the room whilst Spencer got some control. He'd not even started yet and though Spencer was telling him it was fine… get it done… do it… Floyd thought that he could hear reluctance there… or maybe even lies.

Stage three involved nose blowing and soft gentle words. It also involved Floyd making the first cuts. Spencer didn't even realise Floyd had done it until he felt blood running down his side. As he said, some of the lines and parts of the patterns were just normal cuts in the skin, but others Floyd removed small strips of skin. He was at first going to line them up to show them to Spencer, to ease Spencer's fear that Floyd was slicing down to the bone, but he held a bit up to his face and looked closely at it.

'Damn.' Floyd muttered.

'What?' A terrified voice from Spencer.

'Nothing babes. Nothing.' Floyd swallowed the slither and smiled. 'I'd just forgotten how good you taste.'

'Ah. More words of comfort.' Spencer replied.

'What the fuck is going on here?' Sam said from the door way. 'Are you marking him? You are aren't you? You've marked him! Oh my fucking god! What the fucking sodding fucking cunting hell did you do that for? I don't believe you've done that! No! NO!' Sam then turned and left the room.

'I should have warned him, but he's been in the oddest of moods lately. Just two more cuts and we're done.'

'Take a break and go talk to him.'

'Spencer… two more cuts and it's finished. I'll lick it all clean… I mean I shall clean it and cover it.'

'Sam…'

'NO! Fuck Sam!' Floyd shouted. 'I'm dealing with this right now. He has to understand that. He can damned well wait.'

'Floyd…'

'Protest once more and I'll decorate your dick as well. With a claw hammer. Now let me damned well finish this.'

'Floyd!' Now Sam screaming from outside. 'Floyd you get your arse out here now!'

This wasn't going well. Slice and another small cut though and it was done. Floyd forewent the ointment and did actually lick Spencer's part shredded back clean. He then slapped sticky backed covering over it and stood back. 'Spencer. Don't move OK. I want to check it when it starts to scab over. Just lay there. There has been blood loss and you might feel light headed. The pain will kick in soon. Here…' He picked up a strip of pills and a beaker of water. 'Take these but only if you need them. There's six there and you can take two an hour. I'll be back long before then though. Just need to sort out Sam and I'll be back. Give me ten minutes.'

'OK… and though this hurts to say… be nice.'

He watched Floyd leave the room and now he was able to screw his face up in and let the tears of pain flow. How he had managed to lay there for so long and say nothing and not complain he didn't know. But he had made up his mind that he was going to lay right where he was until Floyd got back. Even if he'd got a bit sweaty and was sticking to the table.

o-o-o

Sam's POV

It's not that I hate him really. It's NOT. It's something so horrible and vile that I feel sick when I think of it.

I need him so much it hurts.

I just want him to love me.

I just want him to know when I'm sad and need comfort. He seems to know with Spencer. They cuddle up and read to each other. They pick food off each other's plates. They even spoon feed each other extra tasty bits sometimes. I never get that. I never get anything like that. I get abuse is all. So this isn't going to happen because I hate Floyd. It's really not. It's because I love him and I cant stand to see him being like that with someone else. Taking what I need and not leaving anything for me.

I could kill Spencer. I could take his head off with this gun I'm now holding, cocked and ready, but if I kill Spencer what then? Floyd will never forgive me. He'll never want me. He will tear me apart. He'll skin me alive with his teeth. I know he will. I'll gain nothing by killing Spencer.

If I kill Floyd though, I'll have Spencer. I can then do to him what I want to do. He will have to do what I tell him to do because now Floyd has marked him and that mark is my mark too, because I am Floyd.

Makes so much sense doesn't it?

Well it does to me anyway.

I can kill Floyd.

I _will_ kill Floyd.

I CAN kill Floyd because we are in a secure pod! And that means what I do will hurt. No quick kisses and getting better again here. Oh no. If you get hurt here you get hurt forever. Get hurt here and you cant go running back to _Them_ and asking for some healing potion or whatever because when you're hurt in Hades you fucking HURT! I know! I fucking know that! So I have this beautiful gun in my hand… and it is pointing at Floyd's chest and he's shaking his head at me.

Well Fuck him.

What's the fucking point?

'You bastard!' I scream that at him. 'You fucking bastard.' Vision goes blurry for a second or two there. The threat of tears is because of my bad eyesight and nothing to do with sadness. It might be anger too. 'You abusive cocksucking cunt! All this time I thought you were protecting me and you weren't! You were protecting Spencer! You just want me around in case you fuck up and Spencer gets hurt! You just used me! You never loved me! Stand still and you _will_ fucking well listen to me for once. I'm tired of your snide remarks. I'm so fucking tired of your sense of humour! I would have died for you Floyd, but you wouldn't let me! And now I know why! You need me for the fucking clocks! That's all I am to you. A fucking life insurance policy. Well this time you went too fucking far! This time you just broke my damned heart one time too many! You dangle me in front of people and offer me up like some sacrificial lamb. You say… "Here come love this freak… give him attention… let him hug you… talk to him kindly." And when you've seen how much I actually like to be loved you snatch me back again. Don't move!' I wave that gun around and yes, he does stop moving. He hasn't got that cocky look on his face today though. Oh no. I think we've seen the last of that. He'll never smirk at me again. He'll never tease me again. He'll never have his fist up my arse again. 'You did it so many times Floyd and you don't even realise that you're doing it do you? You let me bond with Emily. I loved to press my face against the gentle curve of her tits. I could smell her sweet sweat and almost feel her nipples in my mouth. I loved to rest my head on her lap and sniff her slowly. But you stopped that. Then you let Aaron get close, but not for too long was it? NO! Aaron liked me! Aaron actually did things for me! So you stopped that too! It's happened over and over again. Teevy… you stopped that. You destroyed them. You took Iolanda. You killed Rosa… you skinned JJ alive.'

My hand is shaking but the corridor isn't so wide that I'll miss. I have six shots here. Six. One of them will get him. Hopefully one in the eye and one in the cock.

I hold it in both hands and squeeze the trigger.

Floyd's POV

The little fuck.

I don't believe he's done this.

I step out of the storage room ready to tell him to give me five more minutes and there he is standing down by the elevator with a fucking gun in his hand. I hate guns.

No.

I hate having guns pointed at me.

NO. Actually I hate having them pointed at me when I know they're going to hurt like a son of a bitch, or even kill. This isn't some overweight, balding, beat cop back up there in Vegas we're talking about here. This is my spawn. This is in a secure capsule away from time… away from place.

If he fires that fucking thing and it some how hits me then it's going to damned well hurt.

I take a step forwards and he shouts at me to stop. He's babbling on at me about something but I'm not listening. I'm not going to talk to him all the while he's got that thing pointing at me. I glance towards the armoury door and now I know why he had the fucking eye glass thing on. It had nothing to do with the clocks. He'd been picking the fucking armoury locks, but I don't know how he got through the main door. The gun is wavering all over the place like he has some fucking shaking sickness. He's not going to hit fuck with that.

I risk another step towards him.

I attempt to calculate how long it will take me to reach him… it's not actually going to take long, but plenty long enough for him to squeeze that damned trigger. I should say something to him. Try to appeal to his better self, but before I can something happens.

Spencer's POV

I can feel where Floyd has carved something lovingly into my back. It stings and I can feel my pulse throbbing through it. I take a couple of the little white pills Floyd left and I drink back some water.

Sam is shouting.

Floyd's not saying anything.

I cant make out what it is Sam is saying though because the sound seems to distort for some reason. All I can make out is that Sam sounds as though he is in pain. He's hurt himself somehow and maybe that's why I cant hear Floyd? Is Floyd comforting Sam?

I was told to stay here I know, but I might be able to help.

What happened?

I walk out into the corridor and everything feels wrong. Floyd turns and looks at me and something red splashes up the side of his face. Then I'm not looking at him.

I'm staring at the ceiling.

Someone is howling like a dog.

Someone is screaming.

I think I hear gun fire.

o-o-o

Floyd thought at first it was _his_ blood.

Hell he assumed it was.

But he could taste it in his mouth and that was the overly sweet taste of Spencer.

Floyd was about to reach out and push Spencer back into the storage room, but he was too slow. Or Sam was too fast?

Spencer had been standing there. He'd been looking at Floyd. They had made eye contact and then Spencer slid from view and disappeared somewhere down on the floor. Floyd began the slow painful… (he thought he'd been shot too) process of turning to face Sam.

His foot slipped in blood.

'No.' Floyd whispered. Or maybe he shouted it. Or perhaps he just thought it.

He wanted to get to Sam and stop what he was doing. Why was he doing this? What the hell was wrong with the boy? But Floyd was getting tangled in Spencer's legs which were shaking on the floor. Floyd slipped forwards and went to his knees, just as something slammed against his stomach and like in slow motion ate through him and popped out of his back.

'Stop it!' Floyd thought this time he had spoken. 'Sam?' Floyd was laying on the floor now and Spencer's foot was quivering. Floyd could feel it rattling against him like a broken tin soldier who'd had his circuits blown.

'Mother fucker!'

Floyd thought that was Sam's voice. It wasn't Spencer's.

Spencer's mad shaking and kicking seemed to have stopped.

Sam watched what he'd done.

The horror of it was slowly seeping through his head.

Oh it's not because it was a kill. Not that. Killing meant nothing. Killing was like treading on an ant. It really wasn't anything. Didn't you have to have properly balanced emotions to feel anything real like that? He was sure someone had told him that once. He was sure that he'd been told that he was emotionally defective and couldn't show love.

Well he proved them wrong today didn't he!

Oh hell yes.

He showed those motherfuckers what real love was.


	41. Chapter 41

41

Sam had been ready. He would have, if it had been necessary, shot himself too, but he slid down the door and dropped the gun at his side and looked at Floyd who was looking right back at him… and he looked at Spencer who he hadn't meant to kill, but maybe was glad that perhaps he had… but it was Floyd's eyes which scared the merry hell out of Sam now. Those eyes were still very much alive and they appeared to be very unforgiving. But the pain for Sam started when Floyd turned his head from Sam and looked over at Spencer.

'Don't turn your back on me!' Sam screamed from the other end of the corridor. 'You look at me you bastard! I want you to look at me when you're dying. I want my face to be the last one you see not that shit, Spencers'.' Sam, now on hands and knees took very cautious steps forwards. 'Floyd! You look at me damn you!'

A hand moved. Slowly Floyd lifted a hand. Sam licked at his lips hoping that Floyd was going to beckon for him. To ask him to come to him. But he didn't. He raised two fingers at Sam and then reached out and held onto one of Spencer's hands.

'NO!' Sam howled. 'You cant have him!' Gun forgotten now, Sam stood and raced down the passage towards them. He jumped over Floyd's legs and went to grab at Reid to drag him out of reach.

'Sam…' Floyd's voice sounded bubbly and hoarse. 'Clocks.' Floyd reached up and took hold of Sam's hand. He pulled down so that Sam was kneeling in the blood pooling next to Spencer. Floyd pushed up on one elbow and planted a sticky bloody kiss on Sam's lips. 'Don't forget the clocks. In the armoury, behind a cupboard…' Floyd coughed up a lump of something bloody and slimy. '… the clocks. Set them. Go!' He then let go of Sam's hand and grabbed a tight hold of Spencer's again. Maybe there was a small twitch in those fingers. Maybe it was wishful thinking from Floyd, but Sam was slowly getting back to his feet and licking the blood off his mouth.

Floyd hurt… oh fuck yes he hurt and not just where Sam had done the physical damage but he hurt way deep down inside too. Again he was sure that Spencer's hand twitched slightly in his, but Floyd was not going to even begin to hope that it meant Spencer was going to sit up smiling and saying everything was going to be good, because as far as Floyd was concerned this was the end. Even if Sam managed to do something with the time, even if Sam did what he was told for maybe the first time ever, this was the end.

At least it was the end of Sam.

As Floyd dragged himself closer to Spencer and wrapped arms around him and breathed over Spencer's face and told him quietly… 'Stay with me Spence. It's going to be OK.' ….he was plotting and planning the best and most pain filled ways to teach Sam that he doesn't ever pull a gun on Floyd and he never _ever_ attempts to kill what is his.

Not now.

Not ever.

'Spence… look at me.'

Reid had his eyes open, but they didn't look as though they were focussed on anything. They were sort of looking in Floyd's direction, which wasn't that difficult as Floyd now had his nose touching Spencer's and was staring into big empty hazel eyes, but Spencer seemed to be looking beyond Floyd.

'You trust me don't you?' Floyd whispered. 'Then look at me. Stay focussed. Look at me Spencer!' Though his voice was low and painful sounding there was also a big old lump of distress there in his voice. Panic maybe. 'Let me help you babes, but you have to look at me.'

Spencer was confused.

He knew that he was laying on the floor. He knew that Floyd was talking to him and telling him to look at him, but it was not easy. Something had gone wrong, but he couldn't work out what it was. He thought that he'd heard gun shots and he thought he could smell blood and other things you smell when standing next to a dead body… not decomp… not that, but the smell of something ripped and exposed. But it wasn't him. Spencer was very sure of that. Even though it seemed to take immense effort to take each breath, it didn't actually hurt. If he'd been shot, then he would be in pain. He knew that much.

Unless he was dead.

'Am I dead?'

Three words and those three words spat out of his mouth with a spray of blood which splattered over Floyd's lips and chin.

'No babes. You're going to be fine. Just keep breathing. Stay awake. Look at me. I'm not going to let anything happen. You know that. We are one now.'

Sam was hunkered down with his back to the armoury door. He could hear their muttered words. He'd shot them both. They should both be dead, but no, no… they were still whispering and talking. Sam pushed his glasses up onto his head and rubbed furiously at his eyes.

He hated them both so much that his head was spinning.

He loved them both so much that he thought he was going to explode with grief.

Floyd, though had been keeping secrets from him. Big secrets. He'd made plans and done things and not shared them with him and that hurt too. That made Sam want to go back and get the gun and use those last two rounds (he thought he had two left) to put bullets in Floyd and Spencer's heads.

'But what then?' Now Sam whispered. 'I'll be trapped. I cant get out of this place. I'll die anyway.' He sniffed up a string of snot running from his nose and wiped again at his eyes with the heel of his hands. 'And if I make things right again, then what?'

To Sam the air felt hot. Much too hot. It was like some under-floor heating had just come on full blast. He placed a hand on the metal of the floor and felt a soft tingling. It _was_ warm though, and that warmth was making the air stink of hot blood… and in the background of that smell was the stink of the gun. Sam looked at the way Floyd had wrapped arms and legs around Spencer. He watched Floyd's mouth kissing and licking at Reid's face and neck. He watched for a couple of minutes and then something inside of him – didn't snap – it was more of a huge sagging and swelling and the anger and jealousy was gone and it was replaced by the knowledge that if he didn't do something with the damned clocks _now_ it would be too late. It was replaced by panic. 'The clocks.' Sam mumbled to himself. 'I don't know if I can still do it.' He was talking to Floyd, but the only response from Floyd was more of the touching and kissing crap going on.

Sam stood and turned to face the armoury door. He punched in the numbers and walked through the open door. It closed behind him, cutting off the sick scene of Floyd trying to keep Spencer alive… it wouldn't work. Sam was sure it wouldn't work. He walked now around the room looking for the door Floyd had said was there. He spied the tiny metal wheels and wondered how he'd missed them the first time he'd been in here, pushed the cabinet aside and looked at another locked door.

'Same combination.' Sam muttered and pressed in the numbers. This door too slid open and when Sam saw what was the other side he let out a soft groan. 'The man is insane if he thinks I can do this!' He walked in and the door slid shut behind him. 'I can do one! I can do two at a push! I cant do a whole fucking room of them! I'll blow the world up! I'll send us back to the time of the fucking dinosaurs. I'll push us back to before time existed! I cant do this! Even if I'd been practicing I couldn't do this.' The last few words came out as a sobbing cry of despair. A despair he didn't deserve to have as it was entirely his own fault.

'It's not my damned fault!' He shouted at the voice. 'It wasn't! I was pushed to it! I was abused and hurt and abandoned and now you wonder why I was damaged?'

He walked to the wall of clocks and pulled his glasses back into place. He might not be able to turn the whole of time back but maybe if he could find the right combination of clocks… if he could find the ones controlling Floyd, Spencer and him self, then he could do something.

'It's not because I'm doing what he told me to do. It's not because I regret doing that. It's not because Floyd is still talking and moving even though there's a hole the size of a dinner plate in his back… oh no… it's not that. It's because I _want_ to. Because I'm not fucking pissing myself with fear that Floyd will get a hold of me, but because I don't want to be trapped down here forever alone.' He tapped on the glass of one of the clocks and then moved on to the next one.

o-o-o

'Fl…'

'No babes… don't talk.' Floyd held him tighter. 'I'll take all he gave you. It's going to be fine. Sam will sort it out.'

'What happened?'

'Please Spence. Please just breathe and don't worry about what happened or what's going to happen. Just relax and breathe for me. Keep your eyes open. Stay awake. You got shot babes. You took a through and through in the chest, but it's going to be all right. I promise you. Everything is going to be all right.'

'Sam?'

'Hush.' Floyd wasn't sure if Spencer was asking if Sam did it or is Sam had been shot. Either way it didn't matter now. All that mattered was that Spencer didn't give up. Even if he was dead, which most likely he was, he couldn't give up. Floyd had felt that weird charge of something flowing through him… and he used it to force Spencer's heart to keep pumping and for his lungs to keep taking in air, but it also made the floor warm and was slowly cooking spilt blood. The smell was both wonderful and vile at the same time. Floyd could feel the ends of his fingers blistering as tiny bolts of something sparked out and rushed through Spencer. 'Mind if I smoke?' Floyd asked. He got no reply. He took that as a positive and then decided that if Spencer was going to die with him here laying in blood the he might as well have one last bit of fun… though it'd not be the last. But maybe Sam would fail… and it would be foolhardy to put faith in Sam right now. So one last dry hump wouldn't be so wrong would it? Well Spencer didn't seem to be objecting. Floyd would have rather had been able to give Spencer something, but that would involve moving behind him… not that Floyd thought he couldn't move that far, not that Floyd had a feeling that his back was broken… purely because he didn't seem to be able to feel his legs (was that the reason for the wheelchair? He thought it had been for Sam.) but because he wanted to look Spencer in the eyes as he pushed against him. So it was one quick and not very satisfying grind and then a smoke…

'Am I dead?' Spencer asked again.

'No babes. I'm not going to let that happen.' But he really didn't think he had a whole lot of control and really now he was thinking a bit clearer he wondered if he'd ever had any control over Sam. Maybe not as much as he thought or would of liked. Floyd smirked a bloody smirk. Very obviously he'd not had the control he'd thought. He was a fool. He'd let the dog off the leash long before it was trained to heel. Floyd rubbed his hands slowly over Spencer's back. He could feel the wet sticky place where something had ripped through him… ripped through Spencer and then gone into Floyd's shoulder where it was embedded in his shoulder. He could feel little bits of shattered bone which he was tempted to try to push back in the hole in Spencer's back. He was holding him tightly but could feel that Spencer was rocking very slowly back and forth. That was good. He could still move, this was going to be OK… everything was going to be great.

'I need to sleep.'

Hot breath tickled the side of Floyd's neck. He didn't want Spencer to sleep. He didn't want him to sleep and slip away from him and not know. He couldn't stand the idea that he might lose Spencer and not know it was happening. 'OK babes. You sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not going to leave you.' Floyd thought that maybe Spencer said something else, but it was perhaps just a sleep filled sigh or his horrible weak shuddering breaths.

Floyd knew that Spencer was already gone. He could feel it. This sleeping thing he had in his arms was something else now.

'Hurry the fuck up Sam' Floyd said as he looked at Spencer laying there. Floyd's eyes hurt. They were sore. It felt as though hot ash had been blown into them. He wondered if he needed to cry… if his eyes were screaming at him to release tears, but Floyd just blinked and licked at Spencer's wet salty face.

o-o-o

Sam paced.

Sam cried. Sam cried enough for Floyd and Spencer. He dripped snot and tears and panic scented sweat. He had two clocks which he'd placed on the table next to each other. One was ticking very slowly, but the other had stopped. They were Spencer's clocks. Now he had those sitting there his panic was making it hard to breathe. He had fucked up big time. He knew that. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Why had he done such a stupid thing?

'Floyd…' He whispered.

_What?_

Sam slapped his hands to the side of his head. He didn't want Floyd in his head. He didn't want to hear that angry hurt voice there. 'Do you love me?' Sam asked.

At first there was nothing but silence… then there was the sound of an animal howling in distress. Then there was Floyd's voice again in his head.

_Of course._

It was a lie! Sam knew it was. Floyd hated him and would never forgive him for this, at least not unless he could fix things and show Floyd that he was worth having around. He had to prove that he had a use. If he couldn't do that, if he couldn't be anything but a thing to masturbate into then what point was there in him? He _had_ to fix this.

Was it a test?

Had any of this really happened?

Maybe not.

Sam stood looking at the wall of clocks and then at the two gaps where he'd removed a couple. 'Then why has Spencer's clock stopped if I've not killed him? Why is one still running if I've killed him? I don't understand. They should both be going or both be stopped.' Both of Spencer's clocks were made of sturdy red metal. They had a double bell on the top in some kind of yellow coloured metal. He checked the back and the alarms on both clocks were set.

o-o-o

Floyd heard the armoury door open. He didn't bother looking up at Sam. What point in giving him that bit of satisfaction? Sam looked at Floyd though. He could see the slow, very slow, rise and fall of his shoulder as he breathed. He couldn't see the same with Spencer. He'd killed the wrong one. Sam gave a small shrug. Floyd gave no indication that Sam was there so Sam spoke to him.

'I'm going to get that eye glass thing and change my clothes. Don't feel too comfy in this.' He ran a hand over his butt and pulled at the frills. He'd been so happy when he'd put this stuff on earlier, but Floyd hadn't told him how nice he looked and Spencer had actually laughed.

Floyd heard Sam talking to him. Actually going on about changing his clothes. He wanted to tell Sam to get back to work, but when he moved his lips only a silent breath came out. Running out of time.

_Running out of time._

It was easier to send the words… this time it was Floyd who didn't get a response. Maybe he'd not sent properly. Maybe time had already run out? He heard Sam turn and leave. He could hear his bare feet on the floor. But at least he'd said he needed the eye glass. That was a good thing wasn't it? That meant he was actually doing something didn't it? Floyd thought so.

Sam changed out of the clobber he had on, and after a short rummage came up with a pair of baggy dungarees. He kept the bag he'd had the gun in, but now he put in a small yellow plastic box. It was his clock fiddling tools. A trip to the bathroom recovered the eye glass. He re-knotted the thong and slipped it over his head again. The Python was laying on the floor in the corner by the elevator door. Sam plucked it up and slipped that in the bag too. Not because he wanted to put those last two (he still thought there were two left) bullets in Floyd and Spencer (Spencer was dead anyway… no need to waste.) but he thought perhaps he could shoot his own brains out with it if Floyd suddenly stood up and came after him. He'd rather take away Floyd's pleasure in killing him, by doing it himself. He'd put it in his mouth and shoot his brains out if necessary, but he wasn't going to let Floyd hurt him.

Again Floyd heard Sam's footsteps and again he didn't turn to look at him or respond.

'I've got my clock kit.' Sam told him. Not even a twitch in reply. 'This is going to be more complicated' Sam now crouched down just out of Floyd's reach. He could see the hole in Floyd's back. It was _huge_ and black and vile. Sam could have probably put his whole arm through Floyd. He gave an involuntary shudder. 'We are in a place out of time and place… So it's more complicated. It's going to take more time… but I think I can do it.' Still nothing from Floyd. 'I'm not sorry I shot you.' Sam stood. 'I'd do it again if I had to. Just so you'll listen to me.' Nothing, nothing, nothing… Floyd was ignoring him. Even now Floyd refused to listen. 'I'm crying out for help is all. I just want you to be there for me and listen and understand.' Silence. 'Why wont you talk to me?' And again nothing. 'I guess I'll go sort the clocks then.' And a step away but finally something back.

'Mmmbop.'

o-o-o

Two black clocks were Floyd's. He found them. Both ticking and ticking and clicking and making odd noises and both going backwards at different rates. 'Well this is going to make it a tad awkward.' Sam sighed, but put them next to Spencer's. He wanted and needed to start with the calculations, but he couldn't even begin to do that until he had his clocks too. 'This is so much _shit!'_ Sam bemoaned and then wiping sweaty hands on the front of this blue denim dungarees went back to the wall.

Disappointment might not have been the right feeling, but it was close. Maybe it was more of another spike of anger of jealousy. Spencer had sturdy red clocks… Floyds were very much the same but in black… Sam's were small transparent and made of plastic. He could hold both in one hand. They looked cheap and nasty and fragile. More like a portable alarm clock you'd take on vacation than something you'd really choose and want. They made Sam's eyes go fuzzy and they made him need a pee too. There was great temptation to piss all over the clocks, but he held back and after ensuring that the clocks were together on the table he left the room again.

Floyd had moved. He was sure of it. He was curled up even tighter with Spencer and his eyes were relaxed and closed. They would have looked like lovers who had fallen asleep after a session of gentle love making, if it wasn't for all the blood… and that dreadful smell of cooking blood. Sam risked prodding Floyd with a toe. Nothing happened. He risked prodding Spencer and still nothing happened. He stood thinking about their lovely shiny clocks and bright alarms and of his cheap plastic crap… and pissed over the pair of them. He then turned and bolted back to the clocks before Floyd could snag him and break his face. It meant that he now had a dribble of wet down the front of his dungarees but that was a small price to pay wasn't it? They were both sleeping… or dead… he could shit on them like they shat on him and they'd not know.

Still it would mean squatting on them and Sam wasn't quite that brave.

o-o-o

Floyd felt the warmth hit the side of his face. He could smell the strong smell of Sam which came with it. Fine. Didn't bother Floyd in the slightest. He had no objection to being pissed on. Not something he'd ever asked Spencer to do for him, but he'd done and had done a lot worse than that. He smirked inwardly, until the urine began to cook as it mixed with the blood. Then it didn't smell of feel quite as nice. Every few minutes he gave Spencer a small _zap_ and breathed easier as Spencer's heart would stop that terrible racing then stalling shit it was doing. As long as Spencer's heart kept going it was going to all work out well. Sam just had to get a move on. Floyd couldn't keep this up forever.

Sam in the meantime sat staring at the six clocks wondering what to do next. He should have practiced when he'd been told to. He should have practiced just because it was _his_ thing… but doing it hurt so damned much. This thought reminded him that his hip hurt and now he could feel a biting ugly pain in his back… oh and of course this suspected brain tumour hadn't stopped its constant scratching and gouging at the back of his eye and now slithering into his brain. If just doing the one clock occasionally caused this much pain, what would six do?

'Fuck it.' Sam groaned as he prodded at his eye. 'Not six… I need the master time… I need seven.' He hoisted himself up off the chair and limped towards the wall again. 'So which one of you is the master time keeper?' He asked.

Spencer was in limbo. He knew he'd died. He knew that Floyd was lying to him, but that didn't matter. Floyd would do something about this. The limbo which Spencer was in had no smells, but there were sounds. Sounds which he recognised. The sounds of wings. Not nice wings you'd hear on a bird, but the whispering, rubbery sounding wings of something circling above him waiting to swoop down and claim him. He could feel his heart hammering away somewhat uselessly in his chest. He could feel the very occasional crushing feeling on his chest as air was forced in and out. Floyd was doing this. Floyd was playing make believe to try to trick Spencer into thinking he was doing this for himself. It was like a weird sort of life support machine, but it couldn't last for much longer. Spencer knew that. Each blip of energy shocked into him was slightly weaker than the one before, or was having less of an effect. Either way Floyd was going to lose this fight.

Ironically his only chance to be safe again and not be at risk of a pair of talons ripping him apart and eating his insides was Sam. So as Floyd gave all he had to Spencer and took away the pain he should have been in, and as Floyd held on and did all he could to stop the beast flying above them from gaining access, Spencer sent out very weak encouraging thoughts to Sam. Those thoughts didn't actually get any further than inside Spencer's head though… Floyd made damned sure of that.

Floyd could feel that Spencer had slipped a bit. He felt that odd buzzing rush as something came for him, but for now Spencer was still laying on the warm metal floor of the secure capsule he'd brought him to for the first time so many years ago. A long time before Sam was introduced to Spencer. And now Floyd could see why it had taken him so long to make that move and let them know each other… It had been a fucking huge mother of a mistake. There was a hissing whining sound in Floyd's mind which at first he thought was Sam trying to talk to him, but no… for the love of fuck, it was Spencer trying to talk to Sam! He shielded that though. It would rile Sam even more… probably… maybe… not worth the risk. If Floyd pushed his mind (and it was actually becoming more difficult the longer he lay here) he could hear the wings circling over Spencer. He pulled him closer… at least as close as he could… Everything he tried to do took up more energy. Each time he concentrated on what was going on below the waist caused that spark he passed into Spencer to weaken slightly… and after what felt like an eternity of trying to see if he could move his toes, Floyd gave up. Loss of feeling to his toes he could maybe live with. Loss of feeling to his dick? Now that was something he'd never come to terms with and something which Sam was going to pay dearly for.

Shooting Floyd and not killing him, and then Sam not killing himself had been the most costly mistake Sam had ever made.

So Floyd stopped listening to Spencer's attempt at contacting Sam, he just put up a general white noise block there… that was simple. He stopped trying to wiggle his toes and he plotted his revenge. And he thought it was going to be quite sweet.

Assuming things worked as he wanted.

And assuming this clock business was going to be done in the manner Floyd had seen it done before.

That was something he certainly was going to have to trust Sam to do.

The last thing Sam would ever have to do… for anyone… ever… so Floyd hoped he'd do a good job of it. Being talked about in the tavern as 'Sam that bastard…' Was not as good as talking about 'Sam the one who could change the course of events and time with the use of a simple alarm clock.'

o-o-o

Sam now had the seven clocks sitting in front of him. Off slightly to his left was a note pad covered in numbers, squiggles, and calculations… at the bottom was a number which he'd underlined, but the put a ? next to it. He sighed… rubbed again at his sore eye and turned to page in the notepad and started again on a fresh page. It took time. Sam wasn't feeling very well… he was feeling horribly sorry for himself… he was already feeling the grief at losing Floyd… and there was the constant panic, which now formed a tight band around his chest, a panic that Floyd wouldn't forgive him. He had to make this result spectacular. He had to make sure that Floyd and Spencer were together and safe and he had to make sure that he was there too… he had to be there too. He was being offered another chance and next time he was going to go to college and grow up and stop being so jealous of everyone and maybe become a astrophysicist. He wondered if Floyd even knew that's what he wanted to do. Sam wanted to spy on the gods. He wanted to listen into their whisperings… he wanted to let them know he was there… offer himself as their servant… beg them… beg and plead with them to make him whole… offer him what he was missing. That's what Sam wanted… But his needs and wants were distracting him now. What he had to do was get this damned number and once time was set, he then had to work out place… and that was as big a problem as the time bit… Again Floyd wouldn't know that. Floyd just knew that Sam could alter things and make things better again. He never actually asked how… he never asked for details… because Floyd wasn't interested. If it worked… if Sam could do it… why ask for details?

He needed a drink.

Sam pushed the notes to one side and left the clocks room again. How long he'd been there he didn't know, but the blood around Floyd and Spencer was dried and dark and shiny. The whole of the complex stank of piss and blood and internal organs exposed to the air. It didn't look to Sam as though Floyd or Spencer had moved so he quickly stepped over Spencer and dashed to the kitchen, where he made a jug of coffee. He intended to take it back to the clocks with him… Again he stepped over Spencer, but didn't get any further.

'No drinks in the clocks room boy.' The words were low and almost a growl.

'You want a drink?' Sam didn't look at Floyd or turn to face him, but he didn't move either.

'No.'

'Not even water?' Sam now turned slowly. 'I need the coffee Floyd. I'm so tired.'

'My heart bleeds for you Sam. Really it does.'

Sam nodded and again stepped over Spencer. He took the jug back but sat on a stool there and drank it directly from the glass container. He then had a pee in the sink… a yellow pee with painful looking red blotches in it. He wanted to moan at Floyd that this was going to maybe kill him, but that was just a bit too much… even Sam could see that now. He walked back to the clocks without talking to Floyd and trying not to look at the way Spencer's hair was glued to the floor by dark red ooze.

o-o-o

Floyd was drifting. He tried not to… he reached out with his mind and pulled himself back, but he was losing. Each time he pulled back it wasn't quite as far back as the time before. He could feel things reaching for him and dragging him down.

And it hurt.

It hurt like a son of a bitch and he could just shoot all that pain back into Spencer, but he didn't want Spencer to wake up in pain… so like the brave soldier he was he put up with it. Not much longer now surely?

'Hey.' A close up voice. The voice of treachery.

Floyd opened his eyes and looked at Sam. He didn't talk but gave him a hard questioning stare.

'I'm ready. All set. We should be in a circle and have to hold hands. I've got the clocks set and ready. So as soon as you want…'

'I need to sit. Help me.' Floyd moved one of his hands away from Spencer and reached out for Sam. 'Against the wall, Sam… if you please.' Damn and fuck… even talking felt like he was hammering red hot spikes into his brain.

Slowly he let go of Spencer as Sam wrapped arms around Floyd and pulled him back and up so that Floyd was slumped slightly sideways against the wall. He then watched with cold hate filled eyes as Sam pulled Spencer around so that they could all link hands. 'I have the clocks. I'll put them two each in front of us… the master clock goes in the middle. I have to say some words to link them and then we count down from five to zero and it will be done.'

Floyd gave a small tired nod and reached out again for one of Spencer's hands. 'Are you sure you got this right?'

'Certain of it. I've changed times and I've changed place. That's right isn't it? Everything will be wonderful.' Sam placed two red clocks on the floor in front of the draped out Spencer. 'Those are Spencer's.' Then two black clocks in front of Floyd. 'These are yours. Don't touch them. They're set and ready to go. If you touch them it will fuck up and you might change things.' He then placed two nasty little clocks in front of himself and a big brown wooden thing which looked like it might have once been on the wall of a railway station in the middle. 'OK link hands.' Sam took Spencer's other hand and then took a hold of Floyd's. 'Ready?'

'Yup.' Floyd said. 'As ready as I'll ever be.'

'Do you love me?' Sam asked.

'Sammy boy… you don't need to ask that.'

'Do you forgive me?'

'Get the three of us somewhere safe and I'll forgive you anything.'

'Do you promise?' Sam was looking at Floyd with nervous excitement.

'I promise! Get the three of us out of here and I'll give you anything and everything you want.'

'OK! Let's go. Don't let go of me or Spencer.'

Floyd then leaned in and gave Sam a quick kiss on the side of his face. 'Such a pretty boy.' Floyd muttered.

Then Sam started his little chant. It was one Floyd was familiar with. He knew it well. He wondered if Sam knew that Floyd knew. He thought not… or at least that Sam hadn't thought that far ahead. Forgive him? Forgive him this?

Never.

It happened so fast that Sam didn't know what had happened at first. The five second countdown seemed to last far too long. How could Floyd move that fast and mess things up so quickly! Sam didn't even see Floyd let go of Spencer's hand. He did though feel Floyd let go of _his_. He looked down at his empty hand and it must have been at that exact point that Floyd grabbed Sam's stupid pathetic little clocks and hurled them at the wall. Then Floyd placed a hand on Sam's chest and let rip all the pain he'd pulled from Spencer and all the pain of his own he'd been holding back and threw himself back onto Reid, grabbing at Spencer's hands as Sam screamed and fell backwards…

A risk… it had been a big risk which Floyd wasn't completely sure would work… But for now it seemed to have paid off.

Sam howled in rage. 'NO! You cant do that!' But it was too late. He was howling at an empty corridor. 'Come back!'

Somewhere in the distance Floyd heard the automated voice… _INTRUDER ALERT… INTRUDER ALERT… LOCK DOWN COMMENCING… _And it brought a smile to his face.

It didn't bring a smile to Sam's face though. He scrabbled around trying to find the bits of his clock as the alarm went off… He was here alone now. He was here alone and he wasn't authorised to be here like Floyd and Spencer where. The doors locked. Lights went off. Red flashing lights replaced it. He punched in the security numbers but they were rejected. He hammered on the elevator door. He screamed and kicked things and told Floyd that he was a stinking scum liar… 'I did what you asked me to do, you bastard… you fucking cunting bastard!' Sam howled over the sound of the voice telling him that gas was going to be release in FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE…

So Sam sat alone in the stinking metal corridor with his broken clocks in his hands and the gun still in the bag over his shoulder.

**A/N: Time to start something new… a follow up? Or do I carry on? Or do I stop completely at this point and leave you wondering? Do you even care? **


End file.
